


The Pudge

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Chubby Castiel, Eating Disorders, Episode: s09e13 The Purge, M/M, Personal Trainer Sam, Self-Acceptance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-06-05 17:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 27,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6713899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is tired of being tired. He eats poorly, sleeps worse, and is sedentary at work. He knows things need to change, but taking care of himself has never been a priority. He prefers watching over others. </p><p>He meets with Sam, a personal life coach and trainer, who wants to help him make the changes he needs to be healthy and happy. Unfortunately for poor shy Cas, Sam is a gorgeous and intimidating force of nature, no matter how kind he is, and he isn't sure he can battle both his own self-worth issues and his exasperating attraction to Sam at the same time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tired of Being Tired

It was a walk.

For the love of Heaven, it was _just a walk._

He should not be heaving like this.

“You made it!” The shriek was probably meant as positive reinforcement, but, perhaps because it was said far too perkily, Castiel found it entirely offensive. “Cas, you did it!”

He tried his best to smile back. “And all it took,” he panted, “was a little encouragement from the most impressive redhead I know.”

Charlie beamed at him. She had probably finished a half hour ago, but she didn't say so. She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the tents all set up with smiling saints offering water and bananas and congratulations.

“You would have thought it was a marathon,” Castiel sighed as he struggled to catch his breath. It was embarrassing how long it was taking to breathe normally after that last tenth of a mile, which taunted him by being at a slight incline. His knees ached.

She laughed and squeezed his arm. “Hydrate. And more sunscreen.” While he accepted a water bottle and one of the tiny packets of lotion with a shy smile of thanks, Charlie continued. “No, not a marathon, but I'm so proud of you all the same! You did great!”

He drained the water bottle quickly, and then winced as she ripped into the packet and began smearing it without mercy, on his sweaty nose and cheeks. “You could have crawled faster than I walked.”

“So? You walked! That's what's important! Hold still!”

Castiel did his best. All he really wanted was to sit in the grass in the shade. And never get up again.

Finally, she sighed at him. “You're not a little bit proud of yourself?”

He rolled his eyes. “Charlie, I was passed by pregnant women and small dogs. I was passed by pregnant women with small dogs. I'm not positive, but I think I was passed by a small pregnant dog.”

She giggled, and he let her. One of them should be enjoying this. “Cas, it's okay. That's not the point of the whole thing. You raised a ridiculous amount of money for this event. You raised twice as much as the next closest person on our team. You deserved the victory lap.”

“I didn't realize the lap was a five-kilometer loop in eighty degree heat.”

“Yes you did.”

“Maybe, but knowing that and being ready for it are two different things.” He heaved onto a bench and put his elbows on his knees. “This is embarrassing. I should have done what I do every year: raise plenty of money for the cause, then be conveniently busy the day of the event, and make one of you bring me a tee shirt.”

Charlie sat with him. “Cas, you did great, okay? Why are you so hard on yourself? You raised forty-three hundred dollars for prenatal care for babies, and you hoofed three miles while most people were still asleep on a Saturday morning. How can you not be proud of that?”

Castiel forced his smile back on. “Sure. You're right. I am. I'm sorry. Apparently I get grouchy after being in the heat too long.”

At last, some concern crossed her eyes. “You feel okay? Maybe you've got heat stroke.”

“It isn't that hot,” he sighed. “I'm fine. Look, there's Dorothy. Go congratulate her, and you two go find something to eat. I'm going to listen to the music for a while. I'll see you on Monday, okay?”

For just a moment, Charlie looked torn. But when Dorothy caught sight of her and grinned, she kissed Castiel's cheek and jumped up. “Proud of you, bestie!”

Castiel waved her off, tossed a weary smile at Dorothy, and watched them laugh together across the field.

He put his head in his hands.

Something had to change, and it had to change soon. He was tired of feeling this way. He was just tired. Always so tired. Something had to change.

***

Sam grinned at his employees behind the desk as he entered. “Maritza, Jake, what's on today's schedule?”

Maritza smiled back, but Jake rolled his eyes. “Nothing before coffee,” he muttered.

He laughed. “I could swear your resume said you were a trainer in the military, and a self-starter.”

“I'm going to self-start some coffee,” he returned.

Maritza placed the appointment book in front of Sam. “Um, Sam, you have your usual lineup of private sessions. And Jake has three classes today. I'll be doing two massages and a holistic health package. But first…First, we already have a walk-in. Meg is showing him around.” She shrugged. “I'm sorry, Sam,” she whispered in her pretty accent. “She got to him before I could.”

A sigh escaped before he could stop it. He made himself smile. “No problem! I'll go save him.”

She giggled and went back to looking over the schedule.

Sam caught up with Meg at the entrance to the locker rooms.

“Heya, Sam!” she smirked. “This is-” She turned to find a lost man wandering from the locker room. “Here he is. This is Clarence. He's checking us out. Wants to start a program. I think my class would be perfect for him!”

The horror on the man’s face made Sam cringe. “Uh, thank you, Meg. You go ahead and prepare for your morning class. I'll help him from here.”

She shrugged. “See ya, Clarence!” She sauntered away to punch Jake in the arm as he waited for the coffee to drip.

Sam sighed. “I'm sorry,” he said softly. “Meg is a bit intense. She's a beast of an instructor, but some folks need someone a little less…”

“Demonic?” the man suggested as he stared after the woman.

He snickered. “I was going to say hardcore. But yes. Clarence-”

“It's Cas,” he sighed miserably. “Castiel Santo.”

It was impossible to not find this man endearing. He was a chubby man in his thirties, with bright blue eyes lowered to gaze at the ground. Sam guessed that he had once been strong and fit, but that was a long time ago. In spite of the frown, he was a handsome man. And he had a distinctive, fascinating voice.

“Maybe I better just go.”

Sam snapped to attention. “No! Come in my office. Talk to me about what you're trying to accomplish. You came in for a reason, and I'd like to hear all about it.”

The blue eyes lifted to evaluate him, and Sam was struck by them. There was intelligence in there, buried under self-doubt, and beneath the heavy weariness lay hope.

They were the most amazing eyes Sam had ever stared into.

At last, the man shrugged. “Okay. It's probably pretty obvious why I'm here.”

Sam smiled kindly, and shook his head. “No, Cas. Everyone has a different story. If I'm going to help you, I need to know yours, and how you'd like it to continue from here.”

A soft, shy smile bloomed on the man’s face now. He followed Sam into his office to sit on the couches across from one another.

“I'm listening,” Sam said. He used a quiet tone, hoping to undo the damage Meg had done to this man's resolve. “Just talk to me about why you're here, and how you'd like to see things change for you.”

Castiel took a deep breath. He stared down at his own hands while he spoke. “I'm tired,” he murmured. “I don't want to be tired all the time anymore.”

Sam nodded, but did not speak.

The blue eyes flicked up at him, to see how Sam was reacting. To see if Sam was laughing at him. He pushed forward. “I know I'm heavier than I should be. I'm overweight. Obviously. But...but that's not…”

When he didn't continue, Sam said, “By itself, having extra pounds isn't a problem. It's only if it is affecting your health or lifestyle that it is a problem. All of us are shaped differently, and there's no good shape or bad shape, Mr. Santo.”

A look of surprise and gratitude was his reward. “I-I guess I figured you'd just see a fat man and start talking about monthly fees.”

Sam shook his head, then reached up to push his hair from his eyes. “That's not at all what I see when I look at you,” he promised. And that was certainly true. This man had a strange, quiet attractiveness about him that transcended the shy anxiety. He liked it immediately.

Castiel gave a soft huff through his nose, and his voice gained a little strength. “It’s actually the heavy part that bothers me more than the...the, you know, the...what it looks like. I know I'm not...Anyway, it's more that I've literally gotten heavy. My knees ache all the time. My feet hurt. I get out of breath too easily. And I know I don't eat well. I just...I'm tired all the time, and I don't want to be.”

He noted on his small notebook that last part, quoted it exactly, and put a star next to it. Being tired was the main concern of Castiel's, so it would be the main focus of Sam's. “Okay. Tell me a little about you.”

“Oh.” Castiel's face began to pinken, and Sam couldn't help thinking it was one of the cutest blushes he had ever seen. “Oh, I don't know. I just don't eat right, and I sit too many hours, and-”

“No, no,” Sam said quickly. “Tell me about you. The things you do or don't do regarding your health, we’ll get to that later. That's not the most important part of all this. Tell me about you. Who is Castiel Santo?”

“I'm…” The man cleared his throat awkwardly. “I'm just a department secretary for the science professors at the university. I'm not anything. I just...I'm the department admin.”

Sam scribbled the words “just a department secretary” and “I'm not anything” on his paper. Then he sighed. “Okay. That's where you work. But who are you?”

Castiel was staring at him now. “What does that even mean?”

He smiled. “I guess we'll find out together,” he said softly. Then he asked in a different way. “Do you have family?”

“I live alone,” he responded. “I don't...do much outside of work anymore.”

Sam nodded, but he made himself a note about “anymore.”

“I have a twin brother on the east coast, Jimmy, and his wife and daughter. I only see them once a year or so.” The blue eyes lowered again. “Last time I saw him, it was pretty clear we aren't identical anymore. He and Amelia didn't mention it, of course, but Claire…” Castiel laughed fondly. “She's fourteen, and she's got no verbal filter. The first thing she said to me when I got off the plane was that I looked like I was ten years older than her dad. And I do.”

The trainer sat back in his chair with a rueful smile. “Yeah. I know a thing or two about living in a brother’s shadow,” he laughed.

Castiel's eyes widened. “You? How would you even fit in anybody's shadow?” He smirked. “Although, I guess you could ask the same about me.”

Sam liked him. The guy was quirky and shy, and he was adorable but sarcastic. “Well, let's talk about where you want to go from here. What kind of direction would you like to head in?”

“The kind where I don't feel like I've wasted a whole day wishing I were in bed. The kind where I can do a 5k charity walk without feeling like I've run a marathon. I want to still have the energy to feel like going out after work. I'd like to remember how it feels to not ache after sleeping. I want to stop giving up before I've accomplished anything.”

Without a thought, Sam reached across to squeeze the man's hand. “Then let's get you there,” he said.

Castiel blushed, and it was, without a doubt, definitely the cutest thing Sam had ever seen.


	2. The Jerk and The Bitch

When Sam decided he wanted to abandon his law school track and pursue studies in sports psychology and certifications as a life coach and personal trainer, Dean had pretty much assumed his kid brother had lost his mind. But he had kept his opinions to himself, and ten years later, he was glad he had. Sam was so happy with what he did, so satisfied with his impact on others’ happiness, that Dean couldn't imagine him doing anything else.

Dean didn't know much about it, other than the anecdotal reports from Sam that he looked forward to at the end of each day. But apparently his little brother was good at what he did. Very good. He had worked with some big names, from professional and college athletes hoping to go to the next level to actors in action films to musicians who needed to be able to keep up with their choreographers on stage. As exciting as those jobs were, however, Sam seemed even more pleased with his ability to help everyday people reach their goals. Something about that made Dean proud of him.

Regardless of all the big names he had worked with, this was the first time Sam had come home with stars in his eyes. It was kind of cute, not that Dean would say so.

“But he's so smart. And such a good guy! I talked with him a long time, about things he enjoys, and when he finally loosened up, he told me about how all his free time goes to volunteering to help kids. He tutored middle school kids for like eight years. How amazing is that? I mean...I've worked with kids. They're a pain in the ass.” Sam was shaking his head. “The guy's a saint.”

“Aw. Sammy’s got a little crush,” Dean teased. He tipped his beer bottle, and sat back to enjoy the fallout like any good big brother.

Sam's eyes widened right on cue. His salad fork stopped midway to his mouth and stayed there. “What? No! I-What, I can't-I can't find a guy interesting without-without being-I mean, he's attractive, but I'm not attracted to him!”

It was like a treasure trove of big brother ammo. “Really?” he said. “What's the difference?”

Sam's huge hands flew up. “He's not-I mean, I can find a woman attractive but not, like, be attracted to her! Same with this guy!”

It was amazing the way his professionally successful, Stanford-educated, life coach brother could suddenly become a pre-teen mess at the first mention of sex and romance. And by amazing, Dean meant amusing. “I don't remember you ever gushing about any of your female-”

“I'm not gushing! What does that even-I'm not gushing. Stop it.” Sam stabbed back into his salad moodily. “I'm not telling you things anymore. You're an asshole.”

“I'm adorable.”

“You're a pain.”

Dean shrugged. “Shut up. You're attracted to the guy. What's wrong with that?”

“Aside from the fact that it's ethically questionable, I'm just not! He's come in to get some help because he's frustrated with the way-”

“Who better to help with his frustration than you?”

“Dean!”

He cackled at his brother's offended dignity. “Oh, come on. You haven't gotten laid in like a year and a half. Maybe you'd be less bitchy.”

Sam's mouth dropped. “Wow,” he said. “Wow. You are just full of yourself today!”

Dean shrugged. “Just saying. You’d be happier. It's a healthy part of a fulfilling lifestyle, isn't it, Coach?”

“And we're done here.” Sam lifted his glass and plate to head for the sink.

The older man laughed behind him. “Okay, Princess. I'm sorry. I won't make fun anymore!”

“Yes you will,” Sam called from the kitchen. “Because you're a jerk.”

He snorted. “Doesn't mean you're not a bitch.”

When his brother reappeared, it was with a reluctant, sheepish smile. “Maybe I'm a little attracted,” he admitted with a laugh.

Dean nodded encouragement. He knew better than to tease now that Sam was opening up. It was weird with Sam. Teasing could cause the behemoth to storm out with a slamming door, or it could make him peek out of his defensive shell for a few minutes. Dean would never know which was likely, so when Sam chose to talk instead of seethe or sulk, he considered it a victory.

They wandered toward the back porch, where they sat in the dark, each quietly enjoying the other’s company. Sam whistled for the dogs, and gave them some attention while he collected his thoughts. The shepherd sat next to Dean in stoic silence, and the retriever happily put his paws up on Sam's lap to snuggle. Then he sought out and delivered a couple of tennis balls for Sam to toss for them. The shepherd stubbornly brought his to Dean, who rolled his eyes and gave in, tossing it much further so the dog had to run more, which suited the canine perfectly.

At last, Sam spoke again, as Dean knew he would. “I'd be lying if I said I'm not a little lonely,” he murmured without looking in Dean’s direction.

Dean waited.

“It's not a big deal or anything. I'm busy and I'm happy. I just...You ever think about settling with somebody?”

“I don't know. Maybe one day.”

Sam nodded, and watched the dogs run.

“I don't know,” Dean said again. “I think maybe Lisa was it for me. As close as I was going to get. And I tried. But that wasn't enough, not for either of us. I'm content now. I like to go out and chase sometimes, but I think my days of wanting to actually catch and keep are gone. I like being on my own. You kind of helped me with that, you know?”

Sam turned to stare at him, but Dean kept his eyes on the dogs. “Me? What do you mean?”

Dean shrugged. “I guess I kind of always figured that was the endgame. Mom and Dad never had the perfect marriage till she was gone, but after that, he was so devoted to her memory. Till the day he died, he made it seem like being married and being the protector of your family was the most important thing you can do in life. Which was funny, considering he wasn't around much when we were kids.”

Sam chuckled softly. “Yeah. But you're right. He always talked about Mom being the love of his life, like there was nothing bigger than that.”

“And maybe there isn't,” Dean conceded. “Maybe that is what the endgame is supposed to be. But I don't know if that's what I want, and I had a real hard time admitting that to myself.” As Colonel brought the ball back, Dean threw it as far as he could. “But watching you, listening to you tell folks on the phone that they've gotta let go of the life they thought they wanted and start going after the one they want now...It kind of made me realize I've got to do what's best for me even if it isn't what most people, what Dad, would have wanted. Maybe it really is okay that I don't want that happily ever after crap. That I want to be able to pack up and take the Impala to the mountains and camp for a week and not have anybody to answer to or worry about. Listening to you talk about being okay with giving up dreams that were never yours to begin with...I realized I was trying to build what Dad had taken away from him, not what I really want for myself.”

“Wow,” Sam breathed.

“I know.”

“That's the most words you've strung together in a single sitting in our entire lives.”

Dean laughed and drained his beer. “Shut up.”

Sam snickered, then quieted. He continued throwing the tennis ball automatically every time Bones returned it. “I'm glad you're doing what you want. That makes me happy.”

“Me too. But I wonder if you're doing what you want.”

There was a sigh and another silence. “I am. I really am. I'm happy, man. I just wish sometimes I had somebody to share that with. That's all.”

“Tell me more about this Cas guy.”

Sam ducked his head to let his hair fall in front of his face. Dean didn't need the psychology degree to know that was one reason, subconscious or not, that Sam kept it long, to hide behind.

He dropped the ball to let Colonel know their game was over, and the shepherd took up his usual position guarding Dean’s feet. Bones heaved a sigh, and lay down beside his old friend.

“Have you ever just known, just looked at a guy and known, without a doubt, that he was a good man, down to his core?”

Dean smiled at his brother fondly, and nodded. “Yeah, Sammy,” he said so quietly that the younger probably did not even hear. “Every day.”


	3. Orbit

Castiel wasn't sleeping. He had awoken himself snoring a half hour ago, and now he was staring at a dark ceiling. 

If he were going to be honest, it had been years since he had slept well regularly. He knew his habits were self-defeating. But they were, after all, habits. 

He looked at the clock. Three. Still too early to call Jimmy. Even Charlie was probably asleep by now. 

Castiel's hand reached down beneath his shirt to rub his belly idly. He thought about his talk with Sam Winchester, the life coach trainer guy who seemed to be everything Castiel wasn't. He was being honest when he said he didn't mind so much what he looked like. He had some stretch marks he didn't like much, but they weren't so bad. He wasn't the type to go around without his shirt on anyway. And he kind of liked the way it felt, the silky lines along his waist. Maybe that was strange. But on nights when he couldn't sleep, he ran his fingertips across the marks, and imagined someone else lying with him and doing the same. 

Imagine that. Someone loving him so much they wanted to caress his skin, even the soft, broken parts. 

But it wasn't really about that. It wasn't about looking a certain way. It was about not being uncomfortable and tired anymore. It was about taking himself and his own health seriously for once. It was about feeling like himself again. Whoever that was. 

Castiel had always been a large man. He had boxed in college, while his brother ran track. Jimmy was leaner, but Castiel had grown up thick and solid. When they graduated, Jimmy had continued to jog, but Castiel had struggled to keep up with his weight-lifting and cardio workouts when he had no competitions to work toward. He couldn't remember when he had stopped bothering entirely, but it had been at least ten years since he had begun the descent. Jimmy was his baseline, a way of seeing just how far he had fallen. It made him not even want to spend time with his brother, which made him feel like a selfish jerk.

There was nothing he could really point to as the definitive cause of his anxiety and meekness. He had once been fairly confident, if reserved. It was as though, while everyone else he knew became more comfortable as they aged, Castiel had actually managed to grow more awkward over time.

His twenties had seen a shattering of his confidence. Relationships had withered and become sour. Professionally, he had struggled more than he had expected to, and he had actually been fired once. That had been a horrible experience. In fact, if he had to point at anything as having crushed the last of his self-assurance, it was probably losing that job. Strange the way something like that seemed to knock the wind from his lungs. He hadn't even liked the job. But that wasn't the point. 

That was the first time someone had thrown him away, the first time he wasn't good enough, no matter how hard he had worked. His whole life, Castiel had relied on his intelligence, his quiet charisma, and hard work, and no matter what, he had been able to come out ahead. This time, he had worked as hard as he could, and it wasn't good enough. This time, he was not worth keeping. 

The professors and staff at the school praised his dedication. They said things all the time about how efficient he was, that he kept the place running, that they didn't know what they would do without him. Yet, he always had a twinge of fear in the back of his mind that told him he wasn't good enough, and when they finally realized it, they would find someone better. 

It was how every romantic relationship had gone, after all. 

It was easier to just not even try dating. He was always surprised when a man indicated some interest. He was hardly a catch by any stretch of the imagination. It made him feel good for a while whenever it happened. But he didn't pursue anything. Trying was a precursor to failure, and he just didn't have the physical or emotional energy for that anymore. 

Castiel looked at the clock again, and did the math automatically. Four fifteen. Jimmy was awake. 

“Hey, Cas,” a too-bright voice chirped at him. 

He smiled to himself. “Hey, Jim. You running yet?”

“About to. After coffee. Want to join me? I'll wait for you. It's only about twenty-five hundred miles.”

“How's my favorite niece?”

“Forgetting momentarily that she's your only niece, Claire’s Claire. Pain in my ass and love of my life. Why? You want her? I'll ship her to you right now.”

He laughed happily. “God, I'd love that. And she would hate it.”

“Yeah, well, you could tutor her in algebra. She's hanging on by a thread.”

“I'll video chat with her later in the week and see where she's getting confused.”

Jimmy breathed with relief. “Thanks, man. So? Why you awake, Cassie?”

Castiel cleared his throat. “Can't sleep.”

“You know-”

“Don't.”

“You'd sleep so much better-”

“Don't.”

“If you just got more exercise during your day.”

“And there it is,” Castiel groaned. “The jogger’s righteousness.”

“I'm not judging. I'm just telling you what you already know.”

“Then why tell me?”

Jimmy huffed. “Cas, seriously. What happened to you, man? The guy I grew up with? He was a force of freaking nature! I couldn't keep up. It was like being chained to a comet. Now…”

Castiel smirked into the dark, even as he felt the sting of tears. “I'm still a comet. I'm just in orbital decay.”

“That's not funny.”

“James, stop worrying so much. Okay? I'm-I'm trying something new. I met with a trainer today.”

Jimmy paused. “Okay. Ignoring the fact that you just said today, which means you haven't actually slept at all tonight, that's...that's great! What did you think?”

What did he think? What did he think of Sam? He smiled to himself. “Jimmy? You ever think God’s got a sick sense of humor?”

“All the time, but don't tell Amelia. She'd think it wasn't very reverent of me.”

He sniggered quietly. “You're devout. Trumps everything.”

“If I'm lucky.”

“Why is it fair that a guy like me has to work with a freaking Adonis in order to see results? How am I supposed to focus on my body when his is right in front of me?”

Jimmy burst into laughter. “Aw, Cas!” he sighed. “You should work with a woman instead!”

He shook his head. “No. I like him. He's a good guy. Not like one of the meatheads I used to box with. He's smart. Got a sports psychology degree from Stanford, if the frame on his wall is for real.”

“Stanford!”

“I know, right? Smart and hot. I'm sure that won't be distracting at all. He's also like six and a half feet tall and entirely made of solid gorgeous. But that's beside the point.”

His brother laughing was one of the nicest things in the world, even if it was at his expense. “Wow, Cassie. You're really determined to make this harder on yourself.”

“I like a challenge.”

“I can't imagine trying to work out with a hot female trainer. I'd be too self-conscious.”

Castiel's eyes rolled. “Yeah. Thanks. But you know, he's not just a trainer. He's like a coach. A life coach, they call it. He's going to meet with me and call me all the time to review how everything is going, not just exercise.”

Jimmy whistled. “Sounds expensive.”

“What else do I spend money on? And it isn't as bad as you might think. I don't know. If this doesn't work...I don't know.”

His brother was quiet for a minute, thinking before speaking again. “Cassie? Are you okay? Like...really okay? I worry about you, man. All I know is what you tell me, and you don't always sound real good.”

“I'll be fine,” he said hoarsely. He closed his eyes. 

“Really? Because I've been thinking. You're the only one out west anymore. Maybe you should think about moving out here. Might be a good change for you. You could be near family. With your resume, I'm sure you can get something without too much trouble. It'd be nice to have you around. You could see Claire more. She might actually pass math.”

Castiel swallowed hard. It took him a moment to trust his own voice. “I'm fine, Jim. I really am. I'm sure I would love it out there. And it means a lot to me that you'd like to have me nearby. But I like my job, and the people I work with. I have friends here. I just need to spend a little time getting my act together. That's all. Go on your run. I'll make you late for work.”

“You'd call me if you needed anything, wouldn't you, Cas?”

“I used to be the one who looked out for you,” he murmured miserably.

“I'm a dad now,” Jimmy pointed out. “It's part of the job to worry about everyone.”

He nodded and sat up. “Well, don't. Get going.”

“Call soon,” Jimmy sighed.

“I will.”

Castiel's tears began to fall as soon as he hung up. It was humiliating to be the one who always needed his twin. Jimmy had been the sweet, conservative one growing up, and Castiel had been the dominant-sometimes domineering-personality. He had been the protector and the adventurer, often dragging Jimmy along to things he never would have tried on his own. 

That analogy of the comet…

Jimmy must have said that a thousand times when they were kids. It had always been said in a tone of utter exasperation. “Where are we going now? I swear, if I get in trouble….” Castiel had been the one to shove him toward Amelia when he was too awkward to speak to her. He liked to tell Claire she would never have been born if Uncle Cas hadn't stepped in. When Claire inevitably demanded confirmation, Jimmy would say, “Yeah, honey, your uncle used to be the one with all the nerve in the family. How the mighty have fallen, right?” 

“How the mighty have fallen,” Castiel sighed now, into a room that hadn't even begun to glow with the sunrise. “Well, screw you, Jim. It took a lot of nerve just to go into that health place, and even more to sign up for the program after I caught sight of that coach. So give credit where it's due. I might not be headed out to jog this morning, but I've taken a few steps. It's something. So bite me.” 

With that, he pushed himself up to head for the shower, and ignored the dark circles under the eyes of the chubby man in the mirror.


	4. This Week

Sam was entirely smitten after the first week. It was completely unfamiliar territory. 

He wasn't the kind to lose his focus. There was a reason he was as successful as he was. He was tireless, for one thing, and dogged when it came to his clients. He wasn't the same kind of intense as Meg and Jake, but he was devoted to each individual's personal goals, celebrated each of their victories. He spent two hours every morning on the phone before even coming to work. He had clients in three time zones, who counted on his voice to begin the day right. He couldn't afford to lose focus. 

He couldn't help it. 

What was it about this man? He was just a client, just like every other client. But he was so strangely charismatic, Sam found himself anticipating his encounters with him with anxious excitement, then barely able to speak to him above a whisper when he had to. 

On Tuesday, while they walked the indoor track, Castiel threw his hands in the air. “Are we done yet?”

Sam laughed. “What about this don't you like?”

The man sighed heavily. Then his forehead creased as he concentrated. “I can't be certain,” he said thoughtfully, “but I think it might be the part where I'm not home watching Netflix and eating a bag of cookies.”

The coach pretended to be very serious. “I see. You've gotten especially good at that particular workout?”

“I have,” Castiel confirmed. “I'm top of my weight class, in fact.”

Sam blushed when the man winked. It was one of those old black and white comedy sort of winks, but it was still a wink, and those did funny things to Sam’s stomach when they involved handsome men and bright blue eyes. 

Castiel continued with a huff. “I hit a plateau in 2009, but then they started streaming Nikita, and I hit a new personal record. I mean, 2010! That was a good year for me. Downton Abbey, Sherlock, Walking Dead…It's a wonder I made it to work most days. Pretty sure that was also the year of the red creme Oreo. Don't quote me on that. But I think so.” He was beginning a pitiful pant, but smiled anyway, while trying to match Sam's long stride.

Sam was smiling too, though he was trying not to. “You're half there,” he murmured. 

Castiel cringed. Clearly he was hoping they were nearly done. “You know,” he wheezed, “I think Inception came out that year. Ever wonder if you're dreaming?”

“I'm certain my subconscious wouldn't have been able to construct you,” he assured the man with a chuckle.

“No,” Castiel admitted sadly. “And why would it? I’m not even interesting enough to be a nightmare.” He moved on before Sam could respond. “I think 2010 was the year Matt Smith took on The Doctor. Very conflicted about that,” he heaved. “I'm a Tennant fan, but then who isn't, right?”

“Are you talking about-”

“Doctor Who. Obviously. I thought you were smart. If you tell me you don't know The Doctor, I'm going to need a new coach.”

Sam couldn't help it. He burst into laughter. The man was adorable. There he was, panting and heaving, while trying to keep up what Sam had called “a conversational pace,” sweating and miserable, and yet joking through the entire experience. 

The next day, it was over the phone, before work in the morning. 

“Okay, but remind me. Is popcorn shrimp a fruit or is it a vegetable? I just want to know how to log it. I know ketchup is a vegetable. My niece told me. But I always forget about fried seafood.”

Thursday, it was a weight check-in. 

“Sam, I think you lie awake at night just thinking of horrible things to say to me, like ‘Go ahead, Cas. Step on the scale.’ I mean, who says stuff like that? Horrible people, that’s who.”

At last, on Friday, after a strength workout, Sam walked him out of the gym, locking up after them. He was still chuckling at the man’s last story about the intellectual depth of most of the boxers he had competed against in college. 

Castiel turned to him. His puffy cheeks were still pink, and full as always, and Sam had no idea why he found that so attractive. He wanted to kiss them, he realized with a start. Those cheeks, they just called to him. They weren’t fat exactly; nothing about Castiel was fat. But he was soft, and sweet, and chubby, and…and staring at him.

Sam blinked. “What?”

The man cleared his throat. “No, it’s okay. I mean, that’s probably not appropriate anyway. I just thought…”

He wondered why the man’s flush was getting redder instead of cooling off. “No, I’m sorry. I missed what you said. I was...thinking of something.”

Castiel sighed. “Well, there’s zero chance of me being able to say it again,” he muttered to himself. 

Sam frowned at him. “What?”

His client’s smile seemed shaky now. “No, I was just saying I’d see you later. You’ll-I guess you’ll probably call tomorrow, but you don’t…” Without finishing whatever he was trying to say, Castiel turned toward his car.

“Wait!” Sam heard himself call. “Wait, I...I’m sorry I wasn’t listening. I was-It doesn’t matter what I was thinking about.”

This time when the man turned his cherub smile on him, it nearly knocked him down. “Sam, it’s fine. It’s no big deal. Thank you for your help this week.” The sincerity in his grateful gaze was astounding. “Really. I know I’m a pain in the ass. But it’s been a good start, I think. For me. I’ve been in a holding pattern for so long, and now...I kind of feel like I have a chance to break out of it. Because of you.”

“It's your hard work, Cas.”

“But I was never able to do it before,” he said quietly. 

It wasn't often Castiel spoke in a serious tone, and Sam nodded encouragement. 

The blue gaze dropped to the ground. “My brother likes to remind me that this is nothing I don't already know. But knowing it...I've tried a thousand times, Sam. I really have.”

Sam's eyes softened with empathy. “I know you have.”

“I don't know why I even still try. I lie there at night, thinking of all the things I should do better, and then morning comes, and I wake up tired, and it's over before I've started. But the past few days…” Castiel shook his head. “I know we've only just begun. But I feel like...I feel like I've finally actually begun! After all those false starts...I guess that makes no sense to a guy like you. God, what am I even saying? Just forget it. I'm-Thank you. That's all I meant to say. I'm glad I started the program.” Awkwardly, Castiel reached for his car door handle and fumbled his key at the same time.

His brain tripped over his tongue, and the words that splashed out were not at all what he meant to say. “Cas? Do you want to get some dinner?” It was a hurried, breathless, brainless voice that Sam didn't even recognize as his own. 

“I always want to get dinner, Sam,” Castiel sighed. “That's half my problem.”

A feverish heat bloomed on his chest and up his throat. “No, I...I mean with-with me. We can...We could talk more. Relax a little. Talk.”

Castiel stared at him. “Because we're so good at that?”

Sam's anxiety splintered into a nervous laugh. “No,” he argued. “We could both use some practice, that's all.”

A slow, shy smile pinched at Castiel's full cheeks, and it was beginning to make Sam lightheaded. “You're the eternal optimist, Sam. You're a man who believes in the sun on nights when there isn't even a moon, aren't you?”

Suddenly, every part of Sam wanted this man. His chest resisted his gasp, fought against taking a breath until it became a desperation. He had never been blown back like this before. 

Sam had thought that he had been in love before. Now he knew better. There was never anything like this. There was never a moment like this in his whole life before now. 

“Yeah,” Castiel said finally. “Let's get dinner and practice talking. I think I might really like that.”


	5. Battles

It was maddening trying to choose a meal while Sam was sitting there chatting with the waitress. He sighed at all the words like “stuffed” and “fried” and “melt” that screamed at him. But it seemed practically dishonest to even bother looking at the salads, as if he might ever have chosen one if Sam weren't right across from him. And Charlie would have laughed if she had heard him order an ice water a moment ago. 

Sam turned to him at last, with that stupid gorgeous face of his, and the infuriating, constant smile, and the ridiculously adorable nose. Seriously. The nose was unfair. It was too much. Maybe Sam worked hard for the incredible body he had. Maybe he spent forty minutes blowing out his hair every morning, and that explained his magically perfect hair. But there was nothing but unfairly good genetics and blessings from some doting deity that accounted for that nose. 

He was pretty sure Sam didn't blow out his hair either. 

“What looks good?” Sam asked. 

Castiel knew he was talking about the menu, but that was a very ill-timed question, considering he had been staring at Sam instead. “Everything,” he breathed. He cleared his throat, and glanced at the waitress. “I need something that's grilled, but tastes fried, with a side of something that counts as a vegetable, but which I might actually consume, and if you have a pasta that could pass for a protein, I'll take that too.”

Sam burst into laughter as the woman stared at him. “Give us just a minute please.”

She nodded, and stepped away with a shake of her head. 

“Cas, relax. I'm not going to give you a hard time about what you order.”

Castiel sighed. “No, I know you won't. But I'm doing this for a reason, right? And all week, I've been doing well, mostly because I'm visualizing you sitting beside me at every meal.”

A soft smile came over Sam, and it made Castiel bite into his own lip. “You do?”

“I mean...yeah. That's kind of the point, right? Being accountable, even when I'm alone. Outside of work, I'm generally alone, so in the past, I've had no one to answer to. It never seemed like there was much point. But if I think about Sam Winchester sitting with me...it's just easier to stay on track.”

Sam's eyes were bright. “I like that you picture me sitting with you.”

Castiel shrugged. “It helps. Except that, at times like this, I get a little stuck, and-and I start wishing you really were there to help me pick something out.”

“Well, I'm here now. Let's look through together.”

“You're going to turn straight to the salads, aren't you?” he teased in a suspicious tone. 

Sam gave him a smirk. “Would I do that to you?”

Castiel sighed as warmth filled his cheeks. There were so many things he wanted Sam to do to him. Prescribing salad was not a single one of them.

“Sometimes, the salads you get in restaurants like this are just as high in calories as other things, and not much more nutritious. There are good ones, but when you eat just a simple salad, you tend to feel like you've been deprived, and then you might counter it by splurging on something else.”

Castiel snorted. “I'd hit a drive through for a cheeseburger on my way home.”

Sam laughed. Sam was always laughing. He loved that. “Yeah, so let's be realistic. And let's be smart. You need something that's filling but not heavy. Protein and fiber. And you need something that you'll actually enjoy.”

“I tried ordering that, and she didn't seem to write anything down on her pad.”

“I noticed that too,” Sam remarked. “Look.” He pointed at the menu, and Castiel followed his finger with his gaze. 

He smiled. “That's really your suggestion? Steak?”

“Sure!” Sam sat back with a pleased look in his eyes. “Do you like steak?”

“Look at me, Sam. Is there a chance I don't like steak?”

“If you order it thoughtfully, it's a great choice. Let's look at the sides. What do you think about rice instead of pasta?”

“I could do that.”

They continued in this way, debating the merits of the steamed broccoli over potatoes, until the waitress returned. 

Castiel placed his order with a level of satisfaction and confidence that he had not experienced in a long time. It seemed so silly to be excited about such a thing as ordering a healthy meal. He didn't care. He was going to let himself be excited anyway. 

While they waited, they sipped at their waters. Sam lowered his gaze. 

The older man took a deep breath. “So? You know all my issues. What's your vice? It's crack, isn't it?”

Sam huffed. “No. Mostly coffee.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Let me guess. Black, organic.”

“Nope. Either a half-caf vanilla latte, or a triple espresso with a shot of hazelnut.”

His client began to laugh delightedly. “You're kidding!”

Sam chuckled. “It used to embarrass the hell out of my brother when the two of us went out for breakfast or something.”

“You have a brother too?”

“I'm the younger. And he's the black coffee guy.”

Castiel's face was lit up in a grin. He knew his cheeks were puffed and fat when he smiled like that, and he hated it, hated what he knew they looked like, but he couldn't help it. “I love knowing that you have your own addiction.”

Sam laughed again, but lowered his eyes. “Don't assume I'm perfect, Cas. I love what I do, and I'm educated for health and wellness, but I promise I have to work as hard at it as any of you.” 

“That's so hard to believe.”

Those hazel eyes looked up at him in silence for a long while. Then Sam took a breath. “Trust me,” he said softly. “Helping you is how I help me.”

Castiel wanted to know. He badly wanted Sam to tell his story. But he knew Sam wasn't comfortable saying more. “Well, I hope that's true,” he said with sincerity. “Because I've only known you a week, and you've already given me...For the first time, I feel like I'm actually going to put my health and happiness ahead of...well, of anything else. It's literally been my lowest priority for years. And honestly, I don't know if I thought starting this program would make any difference. But it already has. I can't explain it. No matter what happens from here, I can tell I'm going to think differently about...about everything.”

There was simple joy in Sam's face now. It was breathtaking. “Thank you, Cas. That's why I do what I do. Putting yourself first shouldn't be something you dread or feel guilty about. It's what you do to live your best life. You've told me about your volunteer work, and I think you'll find that it's easier to give of yourself to others when you're as strong and healthy as you can be.” He took a breath then. “That's...how I think of it for myself.”

He nodded slowly. He was afraid to speak in case Sam was considering telling him more. He didn't want anything to discourage that. There was nothing he didn't want to know about Sam. 

But whatever Sam might have said was buried under the delivery of bread. Sam glanced at Castiel. “I won't eat it. Do you…?” 

Of course he wanted it. Sam knew that. But he shook his head, and watched Sam wave it away. It was hard. He was hungry, especially after that strength session.

Sam was watching him. “Tell me about what you ordered.”

He frowned. “You helped me order.”

“I know. But that's not the food you're thinking about right now. So tell me about what you actually ordered.”

“A steak, rice and veggies, and the mushrooms.”

Sam waited. 

Castiel took a breath. “A lean sirloin cooked medium rare. A long-grain rice with steamed broccoli. Sautéed mushrooms.” He smiled at last. “And now I'm not missing the bread,” he admitted. 

His coach chuckled quietly. “If you look at what's coming, it looks a lot more satisfying.”

“That doesn't work when I'm picturing myself thinner.”

“That's because that's not your goal.”

Castiel began to laugh. “One of us is very confused about what I'm trying to accomplish.”

But Sam didn't budge. “It isn't me. I listen to you better than you do, because I'm trained to, and I'm more interested in what you have to say than you are.”

His dark brows shot up then, even as his eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Look,” Sam said gently. He leaned forward a bit so he could touch Castiel's wrist with his fingertips. 

The contact made Castiel's breath stop completely. 

“I'm not just a physical trainer and dietician, Cas. I'm a psychologist from Stanford. I know my work. And I knew immediately that losing weight was not your highest goal. That's not what you're about.”

Something like relief flooded him, and tears stung his eyes without warning. “I don't want this to be my struggle, you know? When I get to the end one day, I don't want to look back and see that the defining battle of my life was against weight gain. I want to lose weight. Of course I do. But…”

“But it's more than that because you're more than that, Cas.”

Gratitude shone bright in his smile. “I want to be,” he whispered. 

Sam nodded. “You are. Cas, you know how often I spend time with my clients outside of their program hours?”

He shook his head without a word. 

“Never,” he answered. “Each of my clients are important to me, and I care about them all. But I've never been so...so intrigued by someone that...that I didn't want the program hour to end. That I didn't want to wait until the morning call to talk again. You're something special, Cas. And your program is about strength and confidence. You're putting effort into yourself so you have the energy to put toward whatever battles you want to define you. Whatever you want to look back on as your true struggle, we want to get you ready for that. Because you've got important things to do, and you've got kids to teach, and people who rely on you. So consider this training for your next level. This isn't your life's work, Cas. This is your life.”

With that speech, Castiel fell completely and desperately in love with his trainer.


	6. Enough

The food arrived, and Sam was at last distracted from those sweet, kissable cheeks and bright blue eyes. Too distracted.

He looked down at the plate, and the numbers began to sear through his mind without mercy. The chicken was equal to ten minutes in the pool. The rest of it, that was another half hour, because he had too many carbs. If he left the restaurant by eight thirty, he could get to the pool by nine, and do laps-freestyle or breast?-for a full hour before Dean started to wonder about him. He could jog once he was home; maybe Bones would…

After indulging in the mania for a full minute of panic, Sam’s will overcame the fear.

Enough. That was enough. He was enough.

He thought the words over and over in silence until the cravings had passed. He didn't need to purge this. This was not overindulgence. This was sustaining.

It was only a moment spent struggling with himself, but when he looked up, Castiel was watching him with intense curiosity.

Sam cleared his throat. “So, you want to know why I have to work hard.”

“Only if you want to tell it. But I would like to know.”

The shyness in that deep voice was like a balm for Sam's wounds. He smiled as well as he could. “Okay. So...I have a condition, a-a mental health condition, called anorexia athletica. It's under control, as well as it can be, but it's always there underneath.”

Instead of shock or repulsion, which Sam might have expected, Castiel's face was full of empathy.

It helped him continue. “I was a swimmer at Stanford. And I was good. I held a few records, won a bunch of medals. My coach wanted me to try qualifying for the Olympic team.”

The man smiled. “That's amazing!”

Sam snorted. “Maybe it would have been. But I wasn't doing it right. I obsessed about my performance, and without realizing it, I was falling into a cycle I couldn't get out of.” There was just one friend who knew this story, and that was his brother. But it felt right to tell Castiel, and anyway, it wasn't something he needed to hide. It was part of him. And for some reason he felt safe with Castiel knowing him this way.

“How old are you, Sam?” Castiel asked quietly.

“I'm thirty-two now.”

The man nodded. “So you've been struggling with this since college?”

He smiled shakily. “Yeah. I mean, I guess it was there before, but it wasn't as big a deal. My brother was a wrestler. He was constantly checking his weight, trying to balance muscle gain with weight class, and I know now that disorders like this tend to run in a family. I've sometimes wondered if my dad...When he was a Marine, he was really slender. I found an old uniform once, one he probably wasn't supposed to keep, but the point is...knowing what I know now, I can't help but wonder if he was smaller than he should have been for his frame, especially considering his activity level. He was much larger later in life, even though he was probably at his physical peak back then, and I wonder about that. He and Dean...Let's just say I came by my competitive personality and my compulsive one naturally.”

Castiel was watching him with fascination. If it were anyone else, Sam might have felt uncomfortable. But not with him. “Explain to me what the disorder does. Is it related to anorexia nervosa? And is it obsessive compulsive disorder?”

Sam remembered then that Castiel worked with a university medical science department. “Cas? What's your degree in?”

“Human development.”

He smiled. “Ah. Well, it's similar to anorexia nervosa. But it's got a lot of elements of exercise bulimia as well. In fact, that was my original diagnosis. I purge with excessive training. But the factor that pushes me into the category of anorexia athletica is the fact that I obsess about my performance to the degree that I don't consume enough calories to account for the level of training. It became a spiral. I worried about my training, and didn't eat enough. Then when I ate, I felt like I needed to purge it by training. And that ended my swim career. I saw it as dedication. My body saw it as starvation. And, yes, it's comorbid with obsessive compulsive behavior.”

“And you think your father and brother struggled with it too?”

Sam gave a small nod. “I don't know about my dad. But my brother. He was a more mild case, and he's managed it well. But back in high school, I have no doubt in my mind that he had a problem. None of us knew what to call it then. But that's what it was. I think it's part of why I grew to be taller, because I was nineteen before mine got bad, but he was probably still growing. Anyway, we don't talk about it. He knows my diagnosis, knows how bad it got. After college, I moved in with him, and we kind of keep an eye on one another. He's only there about one week a month, but he's really good about checking in with me often. It's kind of just understood that when he calls from the road, I'll tell him what I ate and did that day.”

Castiel was beaming at him now. “Your big brother is your life coach?”

“Pretty much. I've got the education and experience, but he's an instinctive caretaker, and...and like I said, I think he understands the disorder better than he would ever admit. It's been years since it was a real issue for me. But at the same time, it's an everyday struggle. So I know how important it is to have someone you can talk to, someone who will check up on you, who cares how you're doing, and how you're treating yourself. It makes all the difference. Some folks get that online. They'll form friendships with complete strangers, and they'll hold each other accountable for self-care. But some of us need to hear a voice and see a smile to make it work.”

“Isn't it hard to work with guys like me with your own tough relationship to training and food?”

He shook his head and touched Castiel's wrist again. “It's a constant reminder to care for myself, because others count on me, to learn to care for themselves. But you should know that I have to work too. As you put it, my relationship with my own body isn't always perfect, but I do my best. Just as you do.”

“I'm trying.”

They ate quietly for a minute, and Sam focused his attention on the quality of the food, and its taste, rather than its nutritional makeup. It wasn't easy. It would never be easy. But it was necessary for his health and happiness to take care of himself.

“I like you, Sam.”

It was a soft murmur, and it took a moment to register it in his mind. When he had, he looked up. “I like you too, Cas.”

Frustration sparkled in his eyes. “No, I mean...I mean I like you.”

A tickle of pleasure snaked through him. He began to grin. “I like you too, Cas,” he said again, and he sighed happily as he did so.

Castiel took a breath. “Is that okay?” he queried fearfully.

Sam's gaze caressed those cheeks at leisure now. “It's awesome,” he responded in a whisper.


	7. Steadfast

There was quiet talk and shy laughter, and somehow the evening getting to know one another had turned into a date. Castiel's mind kept whispering warnings. Trying is a precursor to failure, it reminded him. Not good enough for this incredible man, it taunted. Nothing to offer, nothing to bring to the table. 

“I wish we had met twelve years ago,” he admitted finally, while they waited for the check.

Sam cringed. “I'm glad we didn't. I don't think I was in the right place when I was twenty.”

Castiel smiled sympathetically. “Maybe not. But I was a much better catch at twenty-two than I am today.”

The younger man shook his head. “Why?”

“Because I was right out of college and still full of myself. In the best shape of my life. Just as heavy, but all of it muscle. You can't tell me you wouldn't have preferred that version.”

But Sam was shaking his head. “Cas? I see guys like that every day. I train guys like that. I once trained a guy who was on the cover of Sports Illustrated and was referred to as the sexiest man alive by that other magazine. As soon as he realized I was into guys, he hit on me, because he couldn't stand for there to be anyone out there who didn't want him. I shot him down immediately. I don't want that overconfidence.”

“Still,” Castiel insisted. “For a man like you…”

“What kind of man is that, Cas?” he asked wearily. 

The kind that literally kept him up at night. The kind that made his breath catch when his phone rang. “The kind who can see at a glance everything that's wrong with me. The kind who has no body fat himself. Don't pretend that's not intimidating.”

Sam nodded. “Okay. Instead, let's talk about all the reasons I've been thinking of you nonstop all week long.”

Delight warmed his stomach. “You have?”

The hazel-green eyes rolled now. “You're kidding, right? The reason I missed what you said earlier, back at the center, was because I was too busy staring at you and wanting to kiss your cheeks.”

Castiel took in a tiny breath through his nose, and found he couldn't let it back out again. 

“What did you say, by the way?”

He smirked. “I was asking you to dinner.”

Sam's eyes widened, and it was such a pleasure to see that he was the one breathless for once. “You were? You did?”

“Not sure how you missed it. It was the smoothest, coolest line of all time. Pretty certain the words even came out in the right order and everything.”

He burst into laughter. “God, Cas. I'm so sorry!”

He shrugged. “It's nice knowing you were too busy thinking of kissing me to pay attention to me asking you out. Which begs the question of why you haven't kissed me yet.”

Sam's laugh lit the entire restaurant. 

It made Castiel a little proud to know that others nearby were looking at them and wishing they were him. Of course, they were probably wondering what a man like Sam was doing sitting with a man like Castiel. But let them wonder. He was happy. 

“I'm working up the nerve to kiss you when I walk you to your car. Don't ruin the moment.”

Castiel sighed. “Well, I hope you get it together by then. You do not want me to have to take matters into my own hands.”

“Noted,” he promised with a grin. 

There was some fumbling when the check came. Sam won out in the end, insisting that because he was the one who had actually succeeded in asking Castiel out to dinner, it was he who should pay. Castiel countered that he had been the one who tried first, but by then, Sam had already handed over his card to the waitress. 

It was unbelievable how easy it was to be with Sam. From all angles, Sam Winchester looked like a man who should be entirely too conceited to want anything to do with anyone like Castiel. He was a stunning, beautifully built athlete, with an Ivy League degree, a successful business, and a perfect nose. He had earned the right to look down on a pudgy, pitifully shy man who couldn't get his life together without help. Just thinking of it made his cheeks burn. But instead, Sam was nervous too. He talked about gathering the courage to kiss a man he already knew was infatuated with him. It was so incredible the way Sam was both genuinely perfect and genuinely genuine at the same time. 

“What does this mean for the program?” Castiel asked quietly as they gathered their wallets. “Have I managed to ruin everything already?”

“What? No, of course not! Unless...unless you'd feel uncomfortable working with me now that you know...how I feel.”

They were walking out into the night air, but Castiel stopped to look him in the eyes. “How do you feel?” he wondered. 

Sam swallowed hard. “I thought we covered that.”

“We really didn't. I just would like to know what's going on.”

“I like you.”

“Right. You did say that. Which was weird. But what does that mean for you?” 

He blinked. “What does it mean for you?”

Castiel smirked sourly. “I asked first, and this time you can't pretend you didn't hear. Do you really want something here? Because if I'm falling for you, and let's be honest, I definitely am, it's going to wreck me if I've misunderstood something. I don't want to find out you just have a thing for getting up the hopes of fat losers. Or fat-losers, which is kind of why I hired you.”

Sam was shaking his head now. “Really? You think that’s how I see you? Cas, look. I think you’re amazing. You make me laugh like nobody can. Since the first time we talked, I was blown away. My brother won’t stop rolling his eyes at me. You literally have me talking to myself. This morning, I was planning our strength session out loud, and I don’t know what I said, but Dean threw his hands up at me and told me if I didn’t say something to you today, I might as well not bother coming home, because it was only the first week of your program, and he was already sick of hearing about you.”

He was horrified to hear what amounted to a giggle coming from his own throat. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

A hand reached for him, and Castiel froze in place. The gentle fingers lifted his chin, and he closed his eyes without even meaning to. When the lips touched his, it was as though his whole body melted into Sam’s. To his utter amazement, the younger, stronger man stumbled with emotion, and Castiel found himself lending his own solid strength to grip the man tight and raise him onto steady feet. At last, he understood what it was he had to offer Sam, and it filled him completely with love and pride. As he steadied Sam, he felt his own heart fall, but he knew it would be all right. 

“I’ve got you, Sam,” he murmured into the man’s throat when their lips parted. “We fit together perfectly. I’ve got you.”


	8. Floodwaters

_They fit together perfectly._

_They fit together perfectly, in spite of Castiel's heft and Sam’s height. His lungs were filling with exhilarating pressure, until he became lightheaded with it. His heart was racing. For a moment, everything quieted around them, and all he could hear was his own weak sigh._

_Then Castiel's strong arms were bracing him, and he could hear him whispering, repeating the triumphant scream that had flashed through Sam's own mind, in a gentle, reassuring voice. “I've got you, Sam. We fit together perfectly. I've got you.”_

_Sam didn't understand why those words were so important, why they meant the world to him just then. He wanted to ask Castiel if he knew, because it sounded as though he might. And wouldn't that be amazing, if Castiel somehow knew what he needed even if he didn't know himself. Castiel had said he was falling. Was that what this was? After all these years, was he finally falling?_

_He was falling._

_Castiel was leading him to a bench outside the restaurant, steadying him with kind words and strong arms. “It's all right. I've got you. No, it's okay. Just sit. Sit and breathe.”_

_Sam was shocked to find that he could not take a full breath. “What-what happened?”_

_“You're okay. I know it's scary, but you're going to be fine.”_

_“I don't understand-”_

_“You're having a heart attack, Sam.”_

_He blinked hard. “Dean?” he hissed._

_His brother nodded. “Yeah. It's okay. I got you, man. Help’s on the way. Just hold out.”_

_“But Cas was just…”_

_“You need to tell me when you ate last.”_

_Sam's brain was whirling, spinning until everything was dizzy. “I-I don't-”_

_“Speak up, son.”_

_He turned to stare at his father, then looked back at Dean, who was snapping his fingers in front of his face. “Um, I think I ate with Cas…”_

_“What did you have?”_

_“A-a grilled chick-”_

_“You know that isn't what I'm asking,” John said in a low voice._

_Dean sighed in frustration. “How am I supposed to check his teeth if you two won't give me space?”_

_“My teeth?” Sam whispered._

_“And your nails. Go on. Answer the question.”_

_He cleared his throat, and tried to think past Dean prodding at him. “Uh, about 35 grams of protein, maybe 34 of carbs, three hundred-eighty-”_

_“How long has it been since you ate, Sam?”_

_Tears were beginning to stream down his cheeks. “I don't know! I don't understand!”_

_“Dammit, Sam! You know I can't save you from this! You selfish child!”_

_“I was just trying to-I can do better! I swear! Don't give up on me, Dean! I can be better! Look, I've got it all worked out. I can-If I just swim during lunch, it'll be fine! Can you hear me? I can do this, Dean! I've got it under control. Trust me, man! I know what I'm doing. And you're going to be real proud. Just wait. I've calculated exactly how much sleep I'll need, exactly what I need to eat. I've got class times and study times down to the minute. It's all planned, Dean. I can swim three hours a day, then again at night, and I can hit the weight room after computer science on Wednesdays and Fridays, and the other days, I can run before the other guys get to the pool in the morning. I’ll eat on my way to class. I've got it all worked out, Dean. Just watch. I'm going to shave full seconds off my finishes in each event, and I'm going to be better than ever. I'm going to make you so proud…”_

_Then the pool water closed up over his head, and he felt himself begin to scream into the darkness._

***

“Sam? Sammy!”

He blinked several times, and felt the floodwaters recede. At last, he could see Dean’s frown. “Dean?” he choked hoarsely.

“You were fighting something in your sleep. You okay?”

Sam sat up, trying to shake off the disorientation. “Where's Cas?”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Oh. Maybe you weren't fighting. Sorry, kiddo. Your happy dreams look disturbingly like other people's nightmares.”

He stared at his brother for several beats as he processed that. Then he gave him a scowl. “No! I wasn't-Shut up.”

The older man laughed and dropped down beside him on the couch. “So? Who are we fighting today? Clowns or-”

“Would you shut up?”

“And why are you passed out on the couch?”

Sam sighed. “I don't know.” Then he began to smile. “Yeah, I do. I went out to dinner with Cas. And we talked for hours. He's amazing, Dean. I kissed him outside the restaurant, and that led to making out up against my car…”

“Details, Sam! Too many details!”

He snickered quietly. Protests or no protests, he could tell Dean was happy for him. “He's amazing.”

“You said that. But you didn't say why you're here instead of your bed.”

“I just came in last night and sat down to think about the night, and I don't remember anything else.” His brow creased slowly into a new frown. “Except drowning.”

Dean was quiet then, and still.

“God, it's been a really long time since I dreamed all the way to that. I usually can shake myself out of it by the time Dad shows up. He's like a totem. You know, totems from _Inception_? He's my clue I'm still asleep. It isn't often I can forget he's gone. So when he shows up, that's usually my cue to check out of Hotel California. This time, I got all the way through.”

His brother sighed. “You drowned, huh?”

“Yeah. While promising you I was totally in control.”

There was a quiet nod. “You eat okay yesterday?”

“Yeah. Twenty-one and some change. Should have maybe been twenty-six, but not so far off.”

“That's a deficit of an entire meal, Sammy.” It was said in a low voice, and Sam knew he was worried but trying not to seem overbearing.

“I know. It's been...The spring is always harder. It'll be fine.”

“You going to let me cook breakfast?”

“I'll just..” He stopped whatever automatic protest was about to leave his lips. “Yeah. That would be good.”

Dean gave him a small smile. “Good. I'll tell you about the new property while I'm putting a scramble together.”

Sam perched on the counter out of the way, and forced himself to listen to his brother instead of calculate what was going into the pan. It had been a long time since he had been this bad. The last time he had needed to fight so hard against obsessing about his training had been years ago. What was the difference now? What could possibly be bringing on the relentless compulsions?

“So I think this one might actually be a keeper.”

Sam's breath caught in his throat.

Dean glanced at him sidelong, with worry in his gaze. “We talked about it.”

Of course they had. Of course they'd talked. That didn't mean it wasn't a shock to the system. “You're not selling this one?”

“You said..Sam, you're turning gray on me. Dude, it's not immediate. And I can change my mind any time. We. We can change our minds. I can find something down the road.”

He swallowed hard. “No, no, that's great. That's what we wanted. What we talked about.” His stomach was suddenly cramping with anxiety, and he didn't like the signals that was sending his brain.

And that was it, wasn't it? The feedback loop he had been swimming in. Anxiety made his stomach turn, which seemed an awful lot like hunger to his brain, which made him think of eating, which caused him to obsess about purging through exercise, which in turn required him to take in new calories, which made him worry that if Dean weren't there to check in on him, maybe he would just go without, which made him anxious about Dean moving out, which…

Which was what they were talking about.

It shouldn't take an Ivy League psych degree to do that math.

Dean was watching him. “You know, I could probably get a lot for this one if I did a little more work. It's in a good area. Maybe I'll sell this one and see what else I can find. I'd rather be closer to the mountains anyway. Someplace I can fish.”

Sam tried to smile. “No. You're obviously into this one. And you're right. We've talked about it for months. You find the right property, do what you do to fix it up, but this time don't sell it. And-and move out of here, and go. It's what you wanted.”

He took a deep breath. “Sammy, honestly, I don't know what I want. But I think I know what you need, and that's to be on your own again. I mean, look at you. You make more money some years than Dad did his whole life.”

“That's not true.”

“Not far off,” he insisted. “Sam, I haven't paid rent for a decade. You're paid off here. Even your student loans. My renters in the townhouse are ready to buy the place. The ones in the place down in Lawrence are getting there. They're trying real hard, and I might give them a break on the bottom line. And Benny hinted he might want to take the ranch off my hands if I'll replace the roof. So if I'm going to do this…”

“Now’s the best time.” He forced the smile to steady. “Dean, it's great! I'm happy for you. A cabin, right? What's the land like?”

Dean watched him another moment, then turned back to the stove. “It's wooded. Got a huge pond, big enough for a fishing pier.”

Sam felt a wave of affection for his brother. Fishing. Dean had just contradicted himself. This place was the perfect choice for Dean, fishing and all, but he was willing to pass it by if Sam still needed him. So Dean. “Good,” he heard himself say firmly. “Good. Sounds like a place Colonel would love.”

The older man's head jerked up. “Colonel? He's yours, man!”

But Sam knew his brother's eyes, and he knew his heart, and that was definitely a glimmer of hope shining through. “Yeah. He used to be. But I think he's moved on. And that's just what both of you should do.”

Green, worried eyes searched his. “Bones won't need him?”

“Bones will be just fine.” A true smile crossed his face. “Maybe it's time for Bones to make a new friend. One who isn't old and grouchy. Maybe one who's cuter.”

Dean began to grin as he moved around his kitchen with a new burst of energy. “What are you talking about? That shepherd’s adorable. And a joy to be around.”

Sam laughed, and slid off the counter. Now that the decision had been made, he felt better about it. Dean was right. Sam didn't need him hovering anymore. In fact, if it were just Dean they were considering, he would probably hover forever. Sam had once called him a helicopter brother, and the guy had somehow taken it as a compliment. But they both knew Sam needed this. This was the next step in his recovery. His disorder was fighting back, relapsing, trying to show them that Sam wasn't ready. Sam was ready.

But he didn't have to do this without a friend to help him. “I'll be back for my eggs. Add cheese.”

Dean smiled, but simply nodded.

Sam pulled out his phone as he closed his bedroom door behind him. It was time for Castiel's morning call.


	9. Calling

When the phone rang on a weekend morning, Castiel began smiling even before his eyes were open. He let a shiver of pleasure run through him before he reached to answer. 

“Hello, Sam,” he breathed in his husky morning voice. 

“Hey, Cas! What's today look like for you?”

So Sam was in perky coach mode. That was all right. Castiel liked that version. He liked all versions, so far as he could tell. “Looking a little early, Sam.”

There was a pause, then Sam continued. “You did specify this time as a good time to call on a Saturday. I've got your file pulled up on my computer right now.”

He chuckled. “I don't think I had any concept of how delightful you'd be first thing,” he admitted dryly. 

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Should I...Should I try later?”

Castiel pushed himself to sit. “Would you let any of your other clients get away with that?”

“Uh, no. No, I would not.”

“Good. I like being special. Yeah, call back in an hour.”

“Cas!”

He laughed happily. “I'm joking, Sam,” he assured him. “But you'll admit that you don't usually keep your clients up all night thinking about how nice your kiss is. Do you?”

The heating of Sam's gorgeous throat was practically audible. It made Castiel grin to know that was exactly how Sam was reacting. “No, I...I mean…”

As delicious as it was to be disarming this beautiful, brilliant man, Castiel decided to be good. “So today is a slow day. I'm going to get breakfast and then I thought I might go to the state park. I used to like stuff like that. I realized after the charity walk that I've gotten way too used to conditioned air. I don't know how far I'm up for hiking, but I figure anything is better than binging Battlestar. Again.”

Sam's smile was in his voice. “That's great, Cas! I can't wait to hear…”

He bit into his full lip and listened with hope. 

“I, uh…”

Castiel took a breath. “It's been a long time since I did any hike. Used to go with my brother some. Can't remember the last time I had company. Maybe that's why I've given it up. Never as much fun alone.”

Sam cleared his throat again. “You know, I could...you know.”

He waited. 

“If it's been a while, you should probably have somebody there with you. Safer. And more enjoyable, like you said. If you enjoy the person that's with you.”

His heart was racing in his chest, and he wondered if Sam could hear it too. “Yeah. My friends don't-They aren't into that. Most of my friends are folks I work with, and they're more the binge Battlestar type.”

Sam was silent. 

Castiel let his head drop into his palm. “So I guess I'll just go alone.”

“I could join you,” the coach blurted out. “You know. Just to-Because it really is important to have a partner if you haven't been in a while. It's just safer anyway. Unless you think that would be weird. Or-or too much.”

A long breath escaped his lips, and he smiled shakily. “Sam, that was nearly as painful as the elliptical machine.”

“It really was. Not-not that the elliptical is-”

“Sam.”

“Right. Um, I'm calling from-from my personal phone, so if you wanted to text me about time and place...I'd really like to join you.”

Castiel had wandered aimlessly, and found himself in the bathroom before the mirror. He watched his own fat cheeks swell in a smile, and for the first time in a very long time, he didn't mind what it looked like.


	10. Recovery

Castiel wasn't sure when he had lost his faith that everything was going to be all right. But being with Sam was reminding him that not everything was going to be all wrong.

Their awkward timidity wore down with familiarity, and in time, they were both beginning to relax and enjoy the safety of one another's affection. They reached a balance between their professional relationship and their personal one without much trouble. Sam sometimes murmured about ethics, but Castiel generally kissed those worries away.

He sat in the bed with the large man lying curled onto his lap like an enormous puppy, and stroked the silky hair from Sam's face. They had been like this for a half hour, and he was proud of Sam.

“You're getting much better at this,” he teased gently.

“At letting you pet me?”

But Sam knew what he meant. “At being still. At letting me love you.”

Sam sighed contentedly. “I'm trying.”

“I know you are. Thank you for that.”

“Thank you for loving me.”

Castiel snorted. “Like I had any choice in that.”

“I like our arrangement,” he whispered. “I coach you to move. You coach me to be still. I think that should be my payment now. I'll keep coaching in exchange for your coaching.”

Castiel continued combing his hand through the man’s hair. He was quiet for a long while, then he shook his head. “No.”

Sam opened his eyes and watched him. “No?”

“No. I'm making progress, Sam. I'm not as tired as I used to be. I'm sleeping better. No.”

Sam sat up to look him in the eyes. “I don't mean stop the program. I meant stop paying for it.”

But he shook his head. “No. It's my commitment. Sam, I haven't spent time or effort or money on my own wellbeing since the last time I bought boxing gloves. I'm finally committed, and I need to keep it up.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay. But not forever. The goal is to change your lifestyle and habits, and bolster your confidence enough, so that you don't need me.”

“I need you now,” he said firmly. “And if I stop paying, I might stop taking it seriously. I might…Something about that would feel like giving up. And I'm finally getting somewhere.”

Sam's smile was brilliant. “Good. I'm glad. Okay. We’ll keep things as they are for now. I won't bring it up again. I'll leave that to you. The offer will stand.”

Castiel was pleased. He let his hand wander Sam's shoulder and arm with lazy lust.

A shy grin ducked under soft, sable hair. “It's only fair if I pay you for your coaching,” he teased. “What currency do you take?”

His breath rushed out in a sigh. His hand and gaze continued brushing along Sam's skin, adoring the tight muscle and glorious bulk that roped around Sam's arms. “I'm open to most forms of payment,” he assured him.

Castiel had always been strong. But over the past month, he had been regaining his ability to make use of his strength. In a very short time, he had been pleased to find that he was not wearing out by two in the afternoon like before. And he had begun to truly enjoy his strength sessions with Sam. He probably would never like cardio. The elliptical would probably always be a pain. But it was all worth it when he could lift a solid two hundred pound man onto him for some aerobic exercise.

Making love to Sam was far too easy. Everything about being in love with him was easy. Everything about being friends with him was easy. Making him laugh was easy. Making him sigh was easy. Making him moan was exquisite.

The first time they had been naked together, there had been so much self-consciousness on both their parts that neither had been able to focus on the other. So Castiel had rolled his eyes, turned off all the lights, and covered them in blankets. Each immediately felt safer, and from there, it had been fun, with two grown men laughing like teenagers at their first rodeo. In the dark, each could pretend to be confident, even though the other knew better. And in the dark, it was just them. There were no social mandates, no forced expectations. Just touch and laughter and whispers.

Easy.

And every time had gotten easier from then. It didn't feel like trying would lead to failure now, not with Sam. It wasn't too much trouble for too little reward. Sam was worth every ounce of effort, and yet it was all so…

“Easy,” Sam soothed. “It's okay.”

It should have been humiliating to find himself sobbing after making love to Sam this time. But somehow it wasn't. Somehow it was exactly the way it needed to be, and Sam understood that.

“I know, Cas. It's okay.”

He smiled into the dark. There was just enough light to make out Sam's silhouette, that lovely, Greek marble figure. “Sam, I know it's been hard for you, with your brother one foot out the door. And I see you second guessing yourself more lately, especially when we eat, because you're anxious about it all.” Tears were streaming down his full cheeks now but he made no move to shut them down. “But thank you for taking care of yourself.” It came out as a hoarse whisper.

Sam caught his breath in his throat.

Castiel licked his lips, and he could taste Sam on them, beneath the salt of the tears. “You're so important. Not just to me, but-but definitely to me too. You're so important to me. I can't express it any better than that. Rusty people skills and all.”

His lover snorted a soft laugh. It had become their joke whenever one of them was having trouble finding his words.

“Just...thank you for taking care of yourself. I understand how difficult that is. To put your own health over...well, over anything. And I know it's probably an easy trap to fall into, thinking that because training is healthy that it's the same thing as putting your health first. I'm the same way with couch surfing. I tell myself it's healthy to rest, that it's a way of taking care of myself, to get my stress down. You tell yourself that the best way to do it is by training harder. But what we're really doing is shutting off, shutting out the rest of the world, the rest of our brains. It's a way of avoiding the way we really need to be taking care of ourselves. A way of avoiding everything.”

Sam was nodding. When he spoke, it was with a soft voice. “You're right. You tune out, and I obsess about training to avoid dealing with reality. I can’t help being anxious about Dean leaving, so my twisted logic tells me that if I just train harder, I'll be stronger and I won't need him.”

“And I turn it all off because I'm terrified that one day I'll try to do something and realize I can't.”

“It's less painful to not try.”

Castiel shrugged and sniffed. “And you can't stop.”

“Because if I do, I don't know if I’ll ever be strong enough.”

“Thank you for taking care of you. For learning to be still for me.”

The dim light was bolstered by Sam’s bright smile. He kissed Castiel's lips slowly, to prove they were in no hurry. “Thank you for taking care of you, and learning to keep up when I can't stop.”

Castiel sighed and held him tighter. “I want to be good to you.”

“Only if you let me be good to you. You deserve that, Cas. You sometimes act like you're gaining more from this than I am.”

He snickered weakly. “Are you kidding? I introduced you to The Doctor. Your ignorance was unacceptable. You're welcome.”

But Sam pushed forward. “Cas, I'm serious.”

His tears were burning again. “I know you are. I can't help it. You're everything any man could ever want. And then...then there's me. And-and I know you think there's something to me, that I've got something you need. But...You know, you tell me the program goal is to gain strength and confidence to keep progressing without you one day. And I know...Look, Sam. You need someone right now. I get that. I came along at the right time, and I'll be grateful for that my whole life. But soon you won't need anyone. You'll have the strength and confidence you need to move on. So...so that's okay. That's the way it should be.”

“Cas!” Sam had gone rigid in his arms.

“Shh!” He kissed his lips softly. “It's okay. Just let me say this, and then we'll pretend I didn't. You should just know that I'm so incredibly grateful that you let me love you for a while. And when you need to go...go. You're far too good for me, Sam. And I want you to be happy. You help so many people. You deserve to be with someone who-who-”

The voice was hoarse and catching. “Cas, stop! Please stop!”

He nodded. “Okay. I'm sorry. I just need you to know it's okay. I want you to take care of yourself, put yourself first. And one day, that's going to mean moving on from me. I just need you to know...that's okay.”

Sam pushed himself from the bed to pace. It was an amazing thing to see in the dim light, like beauty viewed through a film noir lens. Except that Sam was wringing his hands.

“Sam?”

“Cas, you can't, okay? You're-you're breaking up with you for me, in advance! Do you see how wrong that is? Do you see that you're indulging in the same goddamn self-destructive, self-defeating behavior that you walked into my gym to-”

“That's not fair!” he intoned in a voice even deeper than usual. “This has nothing to do with that. Being fat and lazy and worthless is exactly the kind of thing that makes me not good enough for you. It isn't about attitude, Sam! It's about reality! Anyone could see-”

Sam threw his hands in the air and began searching for his clothing.

Castiel felt panic bubbling inside. He reached to snap on the bedside lamp. “Sam, please. I'm sorry. I don't mean to upset you. I'm just-It all came out wrong. Rusty skills, remember? Please don't be upset!”

The gorgeous back was to him, but now Sam whirled around. “So let me be sure I heard right.” He spoke in a low, dangerous tone Castiel had not heard before. “You're fat and lazy and worthless.” Sam let each word fall hard, slamming into the space between them.

Hearing his own words from his lover's mouth made his racing heart ache. He felt as though Sam had slapped him. “Please,” he whispered.

“Castiel, you're the best damn thing that ever happened to me!” he shouted. “You're the man I want to share everything good in my life with! Don't you ever! Don't you ever talk to me like that.”

Tears were choking him mercilessly.

“I am in love with you, Castiel Santo! Don't you dare talk about the man I love that way! You are the best thing I have ever done for myself; you're the way I know I'm in recovery! I must be! If I'm letting myself fall for you so completely, it's a sign that I'm finally putting myself first. Because you're good for me! I spend all day adoring you. Everything about you makes me feel good about myself. God, Castiel. If you were anyone else saying that about the man I love, I'd hit him.”

In spite of his tears, Castiel let a laugh huff out. “Please don't punch me. I'd probably hit you back, and we're trying for healthy here.”

Sam threw his hands up again, but he sighed, and his anger seemed to lose momentum.

“Besides, you know I love that nose.”

“Cas, you can't joke around this!”

He nodded slowly. “You want me to pretend to think I'm in the same league as Sam Winchester? Or is it that you want me to try to convince you that you can't do better? Who's being realistic, and who's being self-destructive? Because, Sam, I took a lot of blows to the head as a boxer, but I was never hit that hard. I'm not stupid.”

Sam was quiet for a moment, and Castiel waited. Then he sat on the bed beside him. “Cas, remember the day we went on that hike at the park a few weeks ago? I had such an incredible time with you. There's never been a time I felt more comfortable in my own skin than walking through the trails with you. All that night, there was this-this peace. I didn't calculate what the hike had done for my training. I didn't worry about what I needed to do to balance strength with cardio, or how many calories I needed to take in, or purge, how much protein was in those bars we ate along the way. I just...rested. You know why?”

Blue eyes lifted to stare at him.

“Because I felt like I had finally found the version of me I'd been looking for the past fifteen years. Being with you finally brought out the me I've been working to be.”

The words struck his heart, needled inside, and made him gasp. “Sam,” he breathed helplessly.

The man shook his head at him, hazel green eyes and perfect nose and all. “Cas, there are plenty of guys out there who like me, if that's what you worry about. Plenty of girls too, for that matter. You are the only one who has ever made me like me too.”

When Castiel began to smile and wipe at his tears, Sam leaned forward to hold him.

“Castiel, you're not just the best thing that ever happened to me. You're the best thing that could happen to me. You say you're fat, and we've talked a hundred times about that, that having a bit of extra body fat isn't a problem by itself. Having extra weight doesn't keep you from being gorgeous, my love. And it doesn't keep you from being strong and sweet and brilliant. It doesn't keep us from fitting together. You say you're lazy. And that's just bullshit. You're one of the hardest workers I've ever met. You joke and you're exasperating, but you have never shied away from the hard stuff. And you're a tireless volunteer. That's not what lazy looks like. And worthless?” He pushed Castiel to arm’s length and looked him in the eyes. “Just don't you ever say that again. If you care about me, don't even think that word again.”

“I want to be worthy of Sam Winchester’s faith in me,” he murmured.

Sam sighed and sat back. “Start by not breaking up with you on my behalf,” he suggested wearily. “Because I've only just found you, and I know without a doubt that nothing is worth losing you.”

“Can I hold you? Please?”

Relief shone in his face, until he had turned off the lamp, and he curled back onto the bed and into Castiel's strong arms. “Thank you.”

It was twenty minutes of silence later that Castiel realized Sam was tracing lines over his belly. He began to smile. “No matter how much weight I lost or how toned I got, I would still have those stretch marks,” he whispered.

“Good,” the voice from atop his chest muttered. “I kind of like them. They're soft.”

Castiel couldn't help smiling the rest of the evening.


	11. Shy of the Tiger

“That's a thing?” Jody had looked skeptical.

“Too many things are a thing,” Sam had confirmed moodily. “And Cas seems to find them all. Or they all find him.”

She had shrugged. “Yeah. Sure. I'm always up for watching other people's loved ones get the crap beaten out of them. That's why I went into law enforcement.”

Sam had glowered at her.

But here they were, all watching in fascination as the ring was prepared. Jody sat beside Dean, and they shared a bag of popcorn, though Sam doubted Jody would get much of that. At his right sat Charlie Bradbury, Castiel's best friend, who ran the tech team at the university. Sam had met her once before, and he liked her very much. Beside her was Dorothy, who had already begun heckling the boxers.

Dean elbowed him, and talked through his mouthful. “So you trained him for this?”

Sam sighed. “Sort of. I told him I'd never trained a boxer before, and he said it didn't matter, that he knew what he needed to do in the ring and whatnot, but he needed me to get him in physical shape for it.”

“Nice job,” Jody breathed as the man appeared before them.

He let his gaze devour his lover's form, the way his trunks and blue sleeveless athletic shirt exposed all the most impressive parts. There was definition in his arms and legs that had not been there even weeks ago. His face and chin were more angled, though the cheeks still looked soft and full. His tummy still stretched the fabric through the middle, but that almost made the image even more pleasant. Sam knew that beneath that shirt was a breathtaking muscled back. There were also stretch marks, but Sam had begun referring to them as “fierce tiger stripes along a soft Silk Road,” because he thought the lines looked cool and felt like silk, and it never failed to delight Castiel.

Soft and fierce. It was Castiel all over.

Sam sent Jody an arched eyebrow. “You're here for the sport. Stop looking at the boxer.”

She laughed. “I paid my admission!” she teased. “I can look at anything I like!”

Dean grabbed for the popcorn. “I paid your admission, so stop ogling my kid brother's boyfriend.” But the words were barely out of his mouth-and the popcorn not quite in yet-when his jaw dropped. “Sam!” he hissed.

The younger man yelped as his brother slugged him in the shoulder. “What? I'm right here! What?”

He smacked him again, as though he wasn't sure he had his attention. “Sam!”

On the other side, Charlie was grabbing onto his arm. “Sam!” she said breathlessly.

“What? What?” he demanded, looking from one to the other.

Each of them are were pointing up at the ring in awe. “Do you know who that is?” they each shrieked hoarsely.

He stared at each of them in turn. “Who?” he asked.

Two syllables sighed out of their mouths in unison. “Rio!” they moaned.

The way they both said the woman's name with lust dripping from it made Sam wish he weren't directly between them. He shook his head at them. “Uh. Yeah,” he confirmed. “She's running the fight tonight.”

Dorothy spoke up then. “She managed Gunner Lawless back in the day. And now she does charity matches like this. And the guy Cas is supposed to fight is Har-”

“She can manage me anytime,” groaned the lovestruck two in stereo.

“Okay, fangirls,” Sam said too loudly. “I'm officially very uncomfortable.”

Dean turned to look at him as though he had no idea what was strange.

Sam shook his head and stood. “You know what? Switch seats with me. I'll sit with Jody. You and Charlie can fangirl over Rio while she and I enjoy Castiel's ass in those trunks.”

Jody was laughing, but Dean shrugged and slid next to Charlie, and the two of them immediately began gushing. Dorothy rolled her eyes. “Just what I need. A male Charlie.”

Sam was staring at his brother in exasperation. “Yeah. I was just thinking, just what the world needs. A female Dean.” He felt a fond smile coming over him then. “That does explain why I immediately felt like I've known Charlie for years.”

Dean burst into laughter at something his female counterpart had said. “Sammy! I like this girl! She's like the little sister I never wanted!”

Charlie punched him in the arm. “Did we just become besties?”

Dorothy threw her hands up and turned her attention back to the ring, where things were beginning to happen.

Sam snickered, and went back to watching Castiel. “He does look good, though, doesn't he?” he murmured to Jody.

But he could feel Jody watching him instead. “He looks real good on you, kid,” she responded in a low voice. “I've seen you at your worst,” she reminded him.

Not that she needed to remind him that she was the one who had responded to the 911 call all those years ago when he had gone into cardiac arrest over Spring Break his junior year of college. As a long-time family friend, Sam was both grateful and humiliated that she was the one to find him in that state. Dean had been impossible that summer, refusing to leave Sam's side for more than an hour at a time unless he was forced to do so, and when he had no choice, Sam often found Jody knocking on his door, suspiciously in the neighborhood and wanting to check in on him. The two of them had been exasperating, but they had been his lifelines, literally and figuratively. Jody had been a strange combination of a friend and a mother figure for Sam for a very long time.

“I’ve seen you struggle. And I've seen you happy, but not like this, Sam,” she was saying now. “And it makes me grateful. You're more at ease than I think I ever saw you before.”

He smiled at her shyly. “Put on ten pounds since I met him,” he admitted in a quiet voice. “And after I got over the shock, I realized I'm okay with that. It's good weight.”

“You needed it. It looks good on you, kid,” she said again. “He looks good on you.”

Pleasure heated his face. “Thank you, Jody.”

She patted his hand. “It's funny. All those years back, when we almost lost you...You know, you were only twenty. But for a long time, you looked so much older. And now you're happy and...It's just as though I'm finally getting to see the healthy, happy twenty year old in love that you should have been back then.”

Rio stepped up to the side of the ring with her cordless microphone. “Hi, everyone! So glad to see such a fantastic crowd here tonight!”

There was a roar of excitement from the college kids, faculty, staff and volunteers. Jody let out a sharp whistle.

“I know we're all here to watch some sport, and we will get to that, but the Dean of Science and Medicine has something he wanted to say first.”

They all watched with interest as a beautiful man with dark hair and intriguing blue eyes behind attractive frames took the microphone. “Hello, everyone, I'm Dr. Michael Arch. I'll be brief. I wanted to thank Rio and the charity boxing league for being here tonight to help us raise funding for our Science in Motion program, which brings talented middle school students to the university for two intensive weeks every summer to explore what an exciting path science, especially applied physics, can be.  
Every one of you who bought a ticket to watch our show has contributed to the potential of a future scientist.”

There was a round of applause, and then the Dean spoke again.

“I wanted to take just a moment to recognize one person in particular, who has worked tirelessly toward tonight's success, and who has dedicated himself to the program from its birth. This person isn't a student, nor a professor, but an administrative assistant without whom the Science and Medicine department would fall completely apart. Castiel Santo is a generous, selfless individual, who goes above and beyond every time. Case in point? Not only did he work incredibly hard to make this night happen, but he's actually one of our team’s boxers, the one who will fight Shawn Harley as our grand finale! Please join me in thanking Castiel Santo.”

Rio took back the microphone, and clapped with everyone else. “Okay. Let's get ready for the first fight!”

Sam watched Castiel's eyes shining with pleasure and pride. He was barely able to meet Dr. Arch’s smile, but he basked in the praise. Sam smiled.


	12. Comet and Sunshine

The voice was certainly distinct from Castiel's. Sam had been amused by the difference, considering how alike the two men looked. “So? What did you think?”

“I don't like boxing, and I don't like boxers,” he reported irritably. “Especially Shawn Harley.”

Jimmy and Castiel each began to laugh. “Yeah? I always kind of liked watching Cassie get wailed on.”

Sam scowled. “Did you see his face? I wanted to kill that man!” He continued applying the ice pack to Castiel's cheek himself, since it was all he could do. Castiel wouldn't let him go hunt down and kill Shawn Harley, after all.

Castiel chuckled, and put his hand on Sam's arm. “Sam, he didn't do anything he wasn't supposed-”

“You keep saying he didn't do anything wrong, but this was an amateur charity event! It can't be okay for you to walk away with a bruise like that!”

“I think it's awesome!” Claire cried out in wicked delight. Her blond head-complete with purple streaks-popped over Jimmy’s shoulder. “I'm totally joining a girls’ boxing team in college!”

Her father glanced at her with exasperation that was evident from twenty-five hundred miles away, through the screen. “You would have to pass Chemistry for that! And what happened to fencing?”

Claire shrugged and snapped her gum. “No law saying I can't do both.”

Castiel was beaming. Sam basked in the man’s happiness. It was contagious. “Of course you can,” he murmured. “There's nothing you can't do.”

Jimmy dismissed his daughter to go study, and she blew them a kiss before heading out. “So, Sam, I can't help noticing that my brother hangs out with you for a while and the next thing I know, he's getting punched in the face by a guy who is retired from the pros with a belt or two under his belt.”

“And I'd like to point out I scored higher than anyone on either team, other than the former pro, and that I held my own pretty well in that last round.”

Sam frowned. “Dean and Jody were literally holding me down in those last minutes. Jody was threatening to make me go wait outside and walk it off. I don't like boxers.”

Castiel smiled up at him indulgently. “None of them, hm?”

“None of them!” he confirmed. “You especially! I can't believe you made me pay to come watch you get punched!” Then a slow, sheepish smile climbed onto his lips. “It was a little hot watching you hit them,” he admitted.

Jimmy groaned. “All right, Cassie. I'm going to bed. Call me in the morning if you're up too early.”

Castiel was still watching Sam. “I won't be,” he said quietly.

“Good to finally meet you, Sam. Hope we'll see you next time Cas comes to town.”

“I hope so too,” Sam responded with sincerity. “Cas talks about you, and Amelia, and Claire all the time. I know how important you all are to him.”

Jimmy smiled at Castiel with obvious hero worship in his eyes. “Get some sleep, Comet.”

“You too, James,” Castiel answered.

When they had closed their screen, Sam leaned in and brushed his lips against Castiel's. “You're his hero.”

Castiel snorted. “Why? Because he's enjoying seeing me with a bruise on my face?”

But Sam did not laugh. “Because he looks up to you. I know that look. I still give it to Dean after all this time. The look that says he knows he would follow you to Hell and back if you told him it was important, if you said it had to be him.”

The smile had softened into fondness. “Jimmy has always said that growing up with me was like being chained to a comet. Even now that we're old, he's still calling me that.”

“Old?” Sam huffed. “Who's old?”

“According to Shawn Harley, I am. He said I'm an old man.”

Sam's eyes narrowed. “And?”

“And I punched him.”

He laughed a little, then touched Castiel's blue-grey cheek gingerly. “I really don't like watching someone hit you.”

“It's sport, my love. You trained me for it. And my head is harder than you think. I can take a hit if it means I can deliver one.”

It had been amazing seeing Castiel's ferocity in the ring. The man had come alive, like fighting was second nature, even though it had been such a long time. Dorothy and Dean had assured him that his form was great, and he was proud of how quick Castiel was, since speed, strength and stamina had been Sam's assignment when it came to his training. He had been shocked to find Castiel at the gym before Sam even arrived some mornings, jabbing into Meg’s glove with an intensity in his flashing eyes that made Sam's stomach warm.

“What are you snickering about, Coach?”

Sam leaned in again, and pressed his lover down to his back on the bed. “Just thinking of the way I reacted to seeing you working out with Meg in the mornings before you went to work.”

A slow smile was his reward. “You mean…” Pleasure bloomed on Castiel's full cheeks in a blush. “You mean when you got jealous?”

He ducked his head, but laughed too. He lowered his lips to Castiel's collarbone, as two sets of hands busily worked away at the clothes between them. “I don't think I've ever been jealous before. Ever. I didn't like seeing her in my place.”

Castiel grinned up at him. “Yeah? Maybe I should put you back into your place.”

“Maybe you should,” Sam agreed. He opened up Castiel's shirt and kissed his way down the powerful chest, and sighed into the soft belly and tiger stripes below. “I want you, Cas,” he murmured.

“Why?” his lover asked.

When Sam raised his head, he found bright blue eyes staring at him in awe. He licked his lips. “Because you've been amazing these past few-Cas, I can't get enough of you...like this!”

A speck of doubt clouded the man's face. The eyes lowered. “Because I've lost some weight,” he said quietly.

Sam stared at him. “What? Because you've…” Then his own eyes widened, and he reached for his lover, holding him deep and safe in his arms. “No, baby. No, not because of that. You look great, but you were gorgeous the moment I first saw you. That isn't what I mean.”

Castiel sighed, and made no effort to emerge from his Sam cocoon.

“I just mean...Cas,” he said, holding him at arm's length so their eyes could lock. “Baby, you're so sexy when you're confident. While you've been working toward your event, I've seen you gain so much trust in your own abilities. You know this is something you're good at. The boxing, but also the fundraising and the organization of the whole thing. This was your event, from minute one, and other than that bruise, which is even a little bit hot, everything went so perfectly! I was so proud of you, but more importantly, you were proud of you. Jody told me today that you look good on me, that I seem healthier since I've been with you. I am. Well, confidence looks good on you. And…” He laughed, and let his hair hide his eyes again. “And I can't help it if seeing you this way turns me on.”

Castiel was beginning to smile, but it wasn't steady. “I worry that if I screw up and gain weight back, you'll change your mind.”

Sam’s heart dropped so quickly, it made him suck in his breath through his teeth. He shook his head, and pressed his lips against Castiel's. “No. Cas, no. It isn't like that. First? No, listen.” He lifted Castiel's chin. “First, you might gain weight back. If you do, it isn't about screwing up. Okay? It isn't about failure. It's about change, and it just means we need to step back and reevaluate what's making you happy and healthy, and what's not. Secondly, it's never been about weight gain for you. It's entirely about how you feel. You weren't comfortable in your body, and you weren't happy with your ability to use it to its potential.”

Castiel snickered. “God, it's like I'm dating a damn sports psychologist, or a life coach or something.”

Sam pushed forward. “Third? I'm not changing my mind. I've never been so sure about anything in my life. You're attractive, and I'm attracted to you. You're sexy, and I want to have sex with you. You're how I know I'm doing something right with my life. Not because you're gaining muscle tone. Because you smile so much now.”

“Just because I know how lucky I am.”

Sam sighed. “Can I please touch you now? You've been so busy, I've been waiting to get my hands on you for three days. Every time you grin at me, it makes me want to jump you.”

Castiel sighed happily. “I know exactly how lucky I am,” he whispered to himself.

***

Dean was just about done with this whole thing. If he had to look at another patch of fabric, he was probably going to vomit.

There came a sigh from a few feet away, and he snapped to attention. “What? Are we finished?”

The woman put on an adorable pout. “But...montage!” She gestured to the equally adorable white dress she was now wearing.

He rolled his eyes. But before he could argue, his brother appeared, towering over the tangle of clothing racks. “Sammy!” he called. “Come on! You're here to tell me we're done, right?”

Sam did not even bother responding to that, so Dean had his answer. “So we're going with amaryllis.”

“The porn star?” Dean heard himself and Charlie say together.

His brother blinked at each of them in turn. “The-the flower,” he corrected awkwardly.

“Oh,” they said. That made more sense. Less interesting, but admittedly more logical.

Sam shook his head. “Anyway, we’re going with a single bloom for the men, and a small bouquet for each of the ladies. Kind of a white with strawberry streaks for Charlie, Dorothy, Claire, and Maritza, all with some white lilac in them. Then a single white amaryllis each for Cas and Jimmy; strawberry ones for me and Dean. And we're getting a white one for Jody to wear in her hair while she officiates.”

“Fascinating,” Dean muttered dryly.

Charlie kicked him in the ankle. “I think that'll be beautiful, Sam,” she offered.

Dean glared at her. He knew she didn't care about it any more than he did. “You even know what an amaryllis is?” he demanded in a whisper while Sam answered his ringing phone.

“Yeah,” she hissed back. “It's a porn star.”

He snickered.

“So? This dress, huh?”

He gave her a shrug. “You look good,” he said boredly.

Charlie smirked. “I look incredible. The point is so will Maritza.” She laughed at the widening of his eyes. “See? If you had any imagination at all, you could have been picturing her in every one of these dresses I've been modeling.”

“What makes you think I'd want to do that?”

“Because you're not the gay brother,” she pointed out.

He conceded the point. “She bringing a date?”

Charlie treated him to a sly smile. “After getting drunk with you at the engagement dinner, I got her some wine and chatted her up. Turns out she's just not the settling down type. Lost her husband almost seven years back, enjoys an occasional date, but hates the idea of being married again. Says she's too happy being single. Said her ideal would be someone she could be exclusive with long term, go out and have fun with, but avoid drama and-quote-never, ever, ever move in with.”

Dean’s mouth dropped.

She laughed. “Yeah. Says she can only find guys who want to live together and be a normal boring couple, or those who want to have an open relationship. She just can't seem to find a good man who is up for both monogamy and yet complete independence. And she sighed in your general direction while lamenting the playboys.”

Green eyes stared her down. “Me? I'm not a playboy! I just don't want…”

Charlie’s smile was softening. “While you were trashed on Dorothy’s tequila, you kept saying you wish you could find someone who didn't mind you taking off for a few weeks at a time, then could treat like a queen when you came back.”

He could feel his face heating. “I-I never said that!”

“Like twelve times. You kept asking me if I thought you were a shallow creep.”

“And?”

“And I think you're just happy with your life the way it is, but you'd like someone to share it with sometimes.”

Dean glanced at his brother, who was gushing into the phone. Sam's smile was so content, so serene, that all of a sudden, Dean felt his own heart begin to ache. “Yeah, maybe. I guess I always figured I'd have to give up what makes me happy in order to make someone else happy.”

Charlie’s hand was on his arm then. “Dean, Maritza is happy. She's doing that herself. She doesn't need you to make her happy. She just wants a companion, somebody to share good news with and dance with at weddings, and go away with for a weekend, then she wants to go back home and read a book in peace.” She watched him. “Isn't that sort of what you said? You want somebody to spend a few nights a month with, to call once in a while, get a beer with now and then, and then you want to go fishing by yourself on a quiet lake or go drive alone? You didn't say you didn't want to commit to someone emotionally. You're just content on your own, and don't want to give that up. Well? That's what she wants too.” She shrugged. “And she's hot, dude.”

Dean was stunned into silence. That did not happen often.

Sam hung up and turned toward them with an expression that was pure sunshine. “It was Cas.”

Charlie giggled, and Dean rolled his eyes. “We thought it might've been,” he said dryly. “Hey, Sam, wondering if...you know, since I'm the only single straight dude at the wedding, and Maritza doesn't seem to, you know, be bringing somebody…”

Sam's eyebrows shot up. “Maritza? Seriously? Yeah! I mean, you might have to kill her brother if he finds out, but totally. She thinks you're hot.”

“She does?”

He smirked. “I hired her for a lot of great reasons. Her eyesight is clearly not one of them.”

Dean pretended to glare, but he was grinning too much for that. “Awesome,” he muttered.

“I can't believe Meg and Jake are dating. It makes my skin crawl.” He shuddered, then heaved a sigh. “Anyway, Cas says we should all meet for dinner before we call it a night. You two in?”

“Yeah,” Dean said quickly. “I'm buying.”

Charlie smiled at him. “Tell you what, Deano. You grab the bar tab, and Dee and I will pick up the food.”

“Deal,” he responded. He was growing so fond of Charlie. Other than his brother and his partner Benny, he didn't count many people as close friends in his life. He got a beer with Jody whenever they were both in town and free, but that was seldom. He went to bars and roadhouses when he traveled for work, but never became a regular anywhere. So when Sam had begun dating Castiel, he had found that he suddenly had become a fifth wheel to two couples whenever he was in town. Strangely, the other four were so welcoming and friendly that it rarely felt like he was odd out. And perhaps if Maritza, who already fit in with Sam and Castiel so well, were interested in joining them sometimes…

“I like your friends,” he muttered to Sam on the way to the gastropub.

His brother turned to stare at him. “Uh...good! I'm glad!” He could feel Sam's smirk. “You, uh, want me to pass a note to Mari before class?”

“Shut up.”


	13. Regress

Castiel was staring down at the scale, but he didn't see the numbers. It didn't matter what they were. He knew the bottom line.

“I've gained,” he whispered into the silence. “After all this, I've gained. And it isn't muscle this time.”

After a moment of focusing, his brain accepted the numbers, did the math in a cold calculation. Not muscle at all. It was thirteen pounds of soft, disgusting failure.

He stepped down, and slid the scale back to its place under his desk, out of sight. He swallowed hard, and fell into his chair, then let his head dip into his hands.

His fiancé was off with his best friends, picking out things for their ceremony, and here he was thirteen lucky pounds heavier than he had been when he had proposed.

A sad smile crossed his lips as he thought of it. Sam had been at the pool, swimming laps, and his hair was still wet when Castiel found him coming out of the locker room. The man was looking over his clipboard, scanning the week’s schedule, and Castiel found that he could not stop staring at him.

When at last Sam had noticed him, those hazel eyes had lit up with such delight that the words had leapt from his throat without his brain’s prior approval.

“I love that you still seem excited to see me,” he had breathed. “I wonder if twenty years from now, when we're married and old, will you still feel that way?”

Sam had grinned at him. “Are we waiting twenty years?”

A slow realization came over him. “You're genuinely happy to see me every time, aren't you?”

“Always,” Sam confirmed. “My life's better when you're in it,” he added with a shrug. “Why haven't you kissed me yet?”

“I've got shopping to do.”

Sam’s eyebrows lifted in amusement. “What? You just got here! What are you shopping for?”

Castiel had watched him. “Jewelry, of course. How can I ask you to marry me without a ring?”

The coach let his mouth fall open.

“Sam? Here's the part where you talk back-”

“Oh god, yes! I mean, yes, to-to-”

A bright laugh erupted from Castiel's lips. “I haven't asked yet!” he scolded.

“I don't care! Yes!”

“Sam-”

Sam’s arms wrapped around him excitedly. “Yes?”

His voice was muffled by the bear hug. “You want to get married?” he forced out.

“Do you?”

Castiel rolled his eyes and shoved himself out of the crushing embrace. “I wouldn't ask if I didn't!”

“Will you marry me?”

The blue eyes narrowed. “I thought we already-Yes, Sam. I would like that very much.”

He could still feel the wonderful enthusiasm of the hug he had earned after the most awkward proposal of all time. But he could also feel the thirteen traitorous pounds.

The unforgiving version of himself that he thought he had shed in the past several months reared his ugly head now.

“The number doesn't matter,” he snapped inside his own head. “What matters is that you failed again, that you're the same fat, lazy, worthless failure you were before Sam. He thinks you're better than that. He loves you!” the cruel voice spat. “You tricked him into loving you, and you tricked him into thinking you could be better, and now you're trapping him in a relationship with a lazy-”

“Cas?”

The man lifted his head from his hands, and gave a too-bright, hollow smile automatically. “Yes? What can I do for you, Dr. Arch?”

The Dean was frowning down at him through his wire rims. “Cas, what's wrong?”

Castiel's mind churned out a series of devastatingly sharp, sarcastic criticisms regarding his inability to focus on his job, and how it was a wonder they had not fired him yet. He forced his smile to brighten even further. “Not a thing, sir. Did you need something?”

Dr. Arch was watching him. Castiel wished he wouldn't, silently begged him to either make a request of him or go away. “Castiel, is something going on? You seem…”

Fat. Lazy. Worthless. The three words ran through his mind like a humiliating chant. The blue gaze hit the desk, as he waited to find out what he seemed like to Dr. Arch.

“...unhappy.”

His eyes flicked up again. “No! No, of course not!” he cried in genuine horror. “Dr. Arch, I love my work here! I'm sorry if I've been distracted. I won't-”

“Cas.”

The strong, soft voice made his own words slam back into his lungs, and he sighed miserably.

“Castiel, you're the best admin this department has ever had. You can't be more than a hundred percent. That's just reality. And you've been trying to be better than full capacity for years. I don't want you to burn yourself out. You haven't seemed well for the past few weeks. Several of the associates have mentioned it to me.”

He blinked several times. A tendril of humiliation was wrapping itself around his esophagus mercilessly. “I'm so sorry. I didn't realize I was...I won't allow it to affect my work anymore. I promise.”

Dr. Arch sighed. He lowered himself to sit on the chair in front of Castiel's desk, with a grace Castiel was entirely envious of. The Dean was breathtaking, completely, unreasonably flawless, with a gorgeous face that was nearly painful in its beauty, and a slender, powerful body beneath his suit jacket and jeans, which had been his personal uniform for as long as Castiel had known him. When he added his long white jacket for the research lab, it all added up to a very intimidating figure. How it was fair for a man who looked like that to also be a scientific genius and full of unflagging grace and dignity, Castiel was certain he would never know. He just felt all the more awkward and uncomfortable in his own body when Dr. Arch was around.

“I'm sorry,” Castiel murmured again for no reason.

“You've nothing to be sorry for, Cas. That's what I'm trying to say. Look, you are what keeps this ship running, and we all know it. But we can at least keep it from sinking for an afternoon. When was the last time you left early?”

Castiel had never left early. “I'm...not sure.”

“Then why don't you go today? Spend a little time taking care of yourself instead of everyone around you. And if you need anything, Castiel, I want you to come to one of us. If you don't feel comfortable coming to me, there's Hannah, or Dr. Fox.”

Without meaning to, he let a surprised laugh out. “Gabriel?”

Michael shrugged. “Wouldn't be my first choice, but he likes you. The point is that you have many friends here in the department, and any of us would be happy to help if you need anything. You've never asked for anything, Castiel.”

“I don't want you to become annoyed with me,” he confessed hoarsely. “I don't want to ever be more trouble than I'm worth.”

The man leaned toward him slightly. “Cas? You're family. Don't forget that. The man who worked here before you, Zachariah, he never became that. He was competent enough, but he never fit in the way you do.”

A shocked bark of laughter burst from him. “Fit in?” he demanded. “You think I fit in? With you? Sir, I'm a secretary with a bachelors in human development. I don't even know how I got this job, let alone how I've kept it. I work for some of the most brilliant research scientists and physicians in the academic world. You think I fit in? I think every day how painful it must be for all of you to have to deal with me!”

The stunned look on Michael’s face told him just how out of line he was. But he couldn't help it. He was so emotionally exhausted, and the words were tumbling out against his will.

“I'm a necessary evil, Dr. Arch. You deal with me because you need things done. You don't have to pretend I'm anything more than that to any of you. I'm a fixture, like the copy machine. I just hope I'm useful to you, enough so I can keep coming in and doing what I love. I'm grateful, Dr. Arch. You don't owe me anything.” He stood on aching knees. “I-I think I will take the afternoon, if that's agreeable to you. I'm…” He could feel his face flushing ugly and hot. “I'm sorry if I'm...I'll be in better form tomorrow, I promise.”

He had closed his laptop and grabbed his bag, making a mental note to continue the research lab reservations and fixed assets inventory from home so he didn't fall behind, when Michael reached out and took hold of his arm.

Castiel stared.

The man's voice was soft as ever, and there was unmistakable sincerity in the words he spoke. “Cas, I don't know how we've failed to make you feel appreciated, to let you know you're a critical part of what we do. And I know you've got something eating you in your personal life. But I promise things will get better. You're family, and if something is wrong, we want to help fix it.”

A grateful smile spread across his lips, pinching at his cheeks. “Thank you, Dr. Arch. Really.”

His arm was released. “It's been years, Cas. It's past time you called me Michael.” And with that, the older man turned and retreated to his office without another word.

Castiel stared after him, then slowly took out his phone.

“Hey, Cas. I'm still out with Dean and Charlie. You give any more thought to that flower?”

He gripped his bag tightly, and slipped out of the department and down the stairs of the medical science building. “I think the one you sent me last night was perfect,” he murmured.

Sam sounded so happy on the line. It made him sigh. “Charlie is gorgeous in the dress. I can't wait for you to see it. I'm so glad we're limiting this to two dozen people…”

Castiel walked to his car, bathing himself in the sunshine of Sam’s chatter. It was unusual for Sam to be the one dominating the conversation, but he was so excited and Castiel was so tired, that it was nicer this way.

“I want to see you. When can I see you?”

If only there were a way Castiel could see Sam without letting him see Castiel. “Dinner,” he murmured. “Let's go out with the gang for dinner before you all call it a night. I want to hear all about what Sam Winchester does when he takes a day off to plan a wedding.”

He could practically hear Sam beaming, and he sighed.


	14. To Try

The food was amazing, and the company was fantastic. Sam allowed himself two radlers, and he accepted a third after a push from his brother. The calculations swam in his head but they blurred before long, and he was too happy to let them reign over his dinner tonight. It was yet another example of how things had changed since Castiel came into his life.

Sam smiled at his future husband. “You're gorgeous. Do I tell you that enough?”

Castiel shook his head a little. “Too much,” he assured him.

“What's that?” he asked, pointing at the drink in Castiel's hand.

“A stout,” he sighed. “Would you like to taste it?”

“Looks a bit heavy for me.”

Now Castiel began to laugh, but it had a sour lilt to it. “Does it?”

Sam blinked at him. “You okay, Cas? I don't think I asked how your day went, and we didn't do a phone call this morning.”

The bitter laugh continued. “Sam, you don't have to pretend.”

The sounds of their friends enjoying their meal together, the teasing and flirting, faded out. His world narrowed to include only his lover. “What does that mean?” He put his hand up. “And I'm tipsy, so spell it out.”

Castiel's eyes softened for a moment, and he smiled sadly. “Tipsy people skills are nearly as bad as rusty ones.”

Sam took hold of the stout Castiel was gripping too tightly, and set it down, then gripped Castiel's hand itself. “I'm listening.”

“You're always listening, Sam,” he sighed. “You're just hearing what you want to hear.”

The sensation of cold water closing over his head filled him with a sobering chill. He could even swear he smelled chlorine. “What are you talking about?”

“You see what you want to see too, and I love you for what you think I am.”

“Cas…”

“But, Sam, I'm not what you want me to be.”

Right here, right in front of Dean and the others. They were all still laughing and telling stories, but they were certain to notice when Sam began drowning right here in front of them. “Cas, you're exactly what I want.”

A hand was on his cheek now, but it felt more like it was pushing him under than caressing him. “I know you think that, and I do love you for it.”

At last, through the closing waters, he felt an instant of clarity, and he assessed everything that was there before them.

Castiel's plate was piled with fried foods and grease. There was not just one stout, but a flight of them. There was an entire basket of bread, and a small dessert menu opened up in the middle of it all. And Castiel had not touched any of it. Even the stout had only been sipped. Castiel's face was pink with shame, his blue eyes dull with pain. He looked ill, in spite of the forced smile.

Sam took a deep breath, and willed away the rising water. “Okay. Cas, okay. Let's get out of here, all right? Let's go where we can talk, just us. Please?”

Sadness and defeat corrupted the smile from his lover. But he nodded. “Fine.”

“Good. Okay. Dean?” Sam gestured to the door, then to the table.

His brother nodded with just a hint of concern. “I got it,” he called from the other end of the group. “Text me later.”

He gave his brother a quick nod, then hurried Castiel toward the door. Once they were in the night air, and the noise was left behind them, Sam turned to him. He cupped the sweet, warm cheeks in his hands and kissed Castiel's lips. It was strangely reminiscent of their first kisses in the parking lot outside the restaurant that first night.

Castiel's lips were trembling this time too.

“My love, what's wrong? I'm listening. I really am. Just talk to me.”

The deep voice was barely a whisper. “I'm so sorry, Sam. I don't know if I can do this.”

Panic was simmering under his skin. “Do what? Cas?”

“Sam, you said yes when you thought I was going to change. It's wrong to pretend I'm ever going to be what you thought I would be by now. You get more beautiful and more brilliant by the day, and I'm...I'm just as worthless as I was before. You did your best. I'm just not…” He shrugged. “I'm never going to deserve you, Sam. It hit me today, and it hurt. I can't let you plan for a wedding with a man-with a man who…” The gasping was dissolving into sobs. Castiel was shaking with shame, pushing Sam's hands away. “If you weren't so damn perfect, maybe it wouldn't hurt so much, but you are, and-”

“Castiel, stop! Please! Why are you doing this? Did something happen?” he asked desperately.

The mangled laugh pushed itself past his teeth, as tears rolled down his full cheeks. “Yeah. Yeah, Sam. I realized I'm still the same fat, disgusting man I always was. What if we're married before you realize it too?”

Sam’s lips parted slowly. “Baby, please! If you think I would ever leave you-”

“Of course you won't leave me!” he cried, throwing his hands up and turning to walk away in what seemed like a random direction. “I'm not afraid of you leaving me! I'm terrified that you'll want to leave, and you'll stay anyway!” He whirled back around to stab a finger at him. “Because you don't give up, Sam! You won't give up. And I can't live my life knowing you won't do what's best for you because you're doing what's best for me.”

Sam’s eyes were burning. “You want me to leave you.”

Castiel flinched, but his own eyes sparked with determination. “That's what I want.”

“No,” Sam breathed. “No, we're done with this. This argument again; we are finished. If you're so determined to leave, then go. I'm not leaving. If you want to break things off, I can't stop you. But I'm not doing it. And don't pretend you're doing it for me. Don't pretend it's for my own good, when I'm telling you I will drown without you.”

At last, doubt crashed over Castiel, leaving him heaving with no response.

“I don't want you to go, but if you're scared, you've got to do what's best for you. I won't stop you. Maybe you're right. I will drown, but at least I won't be with a man with a little extra weight, right? Maybe I'll drown, but at least I won't be with a strong fighter who holds me safe at night and loves me with all his heart. At least I won't be tied down to a selfless, tireless man who works for a university but gives all his energy to middle school kids and all his money to charities that help mothers of premature babies. I might drown, but that's far better than being married to a man who fits me perfectly, a man who is my complete match sexually, and my inspiration intellectually. I certainly wouldn't want to be with a man who makes me laugh, who makes my heart race every time he speaks. It's all worth giving up, so long as I'm not with a man who hits a plateau with his training.”

Castiel's expression was a strange mixture of confused and angry, with a cloud of humiliation hanging over it all. He stumbled back into Dean’s car, and leaned on it heavily.

Sam sighed. That good old Chevy was always there when a Winchester needed to be caught. And Heaven help him, he would make Castiel into a Winchester by the end of the month.

“Sam,” he ground out hoarsely, “I'm not what you think I am.”

He reached for the man, and touched his cheeks with a tenderness he knew Castiel could not, would never, resist. He was rewarded by Castiel surrendering and leaning into the touch. “Okay, baby,” he conceded. “But you aren't what you think you are either. And I will never think of you any other way, so you may need to get used to it. Unless you want to leave me. I won't stop you. But if you do, you can't change your mind, because I'll already be lost without you, Cas. I'm the me I want to be when I'm with you. And one day, I'm going to figure out how to make you feel that way when you're with me. I will always be your coach, Cas, and you'll always be mine.”

The older man pulled him into a tight, frantic embrace.

“Please don't leave me,” Sam said simply, his breath warm on his lover's ear. “You're what keeps me above water.”

Castiel sighed, and held him tighter. “I couldn't leave you, Sam. I always want to be the one watching over you.”

It was several minutes before either of them could move. At last, Sam led him to a bench to sit. He refused to give up his grip on Castiel's hand, as if the man might run. “Cas, talk to me. You ordered as if you intended to binge, then you didn't eat.”

The cheeks puffed out with his exhausted sigh. “I don't know,” he confessed. “Maybe I thought...maybe some sick part of me was hoping...Part of me wanted you to see how far I'd fallen. Maybe I wanted you to...to tell me you were disappointed, even disgusted. I know what that sounds like, but...Sam, if you just told me, just admitted that you see how much I've gained lately, that you know how much control I've lost, that I've screwed up...If you just said it, maybe I can believe your eyes are open?” The last words lifted up into a question, and his gaze lifted from their hands to stare into Sam's eyes.

“You want me to say I've noticed you're gaining some weight back? I don't understand.”

Castiel swallowed hard and went back to to glaring at their joined hands. “Just say it, Sam. You're a trainer, a dietician, a life freaking coach, a successful business owner, an athlete and an Ivy Leaguer. And you're marrying a fat secretary. Just say that. If you can say that, I'll believe you're not somehow deluding yourself into thinking I'm something better. Say it, and I'll marry you.”

“You didn't binge.”

“What?” It was a sharp syllable, barked out in weary exasperation.

“Why not?”

“Why not what?”

Sam licked his lips and held tightly to Castiel's hands. “You had everything set out to binge. You literally, consciously decided to binge. And you didn't. Why?”

His future husband burst into new tears. “Because I'd worked so hard!” he exploded. “It can't be for nothing! I didn't want it! I just wanted you to think…”

“You wanted me to think you had given up, rather than think you were trying as hard as you could and still falling short of your goals.”

“God, Sam, it's humiliating!” He laughed bitterly. “I've been working so hard, and none of it seems to matter! On one hand, you can see me as a lazy, fat slob who doesn't care, and you could just be disgusted and walk away. Or you could see that I'm trying so hard, but I'm just hopeless, that I'll never be anything better because I can't be. Like some of the kids I tutor. They pretend they don't care they're failing, that they don't want to work, because the alternative is trying and proving they're stupid. Why not pretend I could change anytime I felt like getting my ass off the couch, instead of admit I'm exactly as worthless as I look, and I can't help it?”

Sam was shaking his head. “Cas, no! Look, I'd much rather be with someone who tries and fails than someone who says they could succeed but never bothers to try! But you're neither! You work hard. And you do care. But you're going to have to work at it your whole life. There is not a person on the planet who doesn't have to consciously decide to be healthy, and none of them will ever always succeed. Whether it's balancing food and nutrition with available resources, moving their bodies in a way that promotes their health, managing anger or mental illness, choosing and managing medication, and listening to their own sexuality, or maintaining a sleep cycle, every human has work to do. Some of us choose not to prioritize that work. And some of us aren't afraid of hard work, but we're terrified of failing. Cas, there is no failing, not as long as we haven't given up yet! You're not done so long as you're still trying! You've gained maybe ten pounds?”

“Thirteen,” he murmured. His eyes were focused on Sam’s face now, with that look of complete devotion and hopeful awe.

“Thirteen. Really? You were going to leave me over thirteen pounds?”

He began to redden. “It's not about that…”

Sam sighed, and leaned in to kiss him. “I know, baby. But listen. Of course I noticed you had picked up some weight. I'm not just a trainer, Cas. I'm your trainer. And unlike my other clients, keeping up with your body isn’t just my job. It’s my pleasure.”

A tiny smile curled to pinch his round cheeks. “How do you do that?” he whispered. “How do you make me feel like I’m…”

“Like you're the love of my life? Like you're gorgeous? Like you're the sexiest thing that ever happened to me?” He shrugged. “It's because you are.”

He chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “Sam? I want to keep trying. I know I've regained a lot of what I've lost, but-but I still feel better. I still have more energy and I'm sleeping better. I'm so afraid of disappointing you, Sam. But I'm going to risk it, if you'll keep helping me. You're the only one who ever made me think maybe I won't fail if I try.”

“My love, I will always support you. Getting married isn't about being locked in and tied down, Cas. It's just a way of becoming teammates for life. It's just a promise that I'm never going to let you do this on your own. That as long as I'm alive, I'll work toward our goals with you. I need you too, Cas. I need you to remind me that it's okay to skip the pool and have a few beers with friends. You're the only one I trust to see me inside and out. You're the only one I've ever reached for, other than my brother.”

“Please keep reaching for me, Sam. I'll do anything to keep you reaching for me.”

“Trust me that you are what I want, Cas. You need to separate your insecurity from my intentions. Don't assume I don't know what's best for me, or that I'm going to change my mind. You know me, baby. I don't make any decision lightly. I obsess and I analyze from every possible angle. I have faith in you. Please try to have faith in me too.”

Castiel wrapped his arms around the man and sighed. “I'm too tired even to be sarcastic,” he confessed. “Are you okay to drive? Because I could really use a ride home and someone to toss me in the direction of the bed.”

Sam accepted the car keys. “I'm always here for you, Cas. I promise.”

“I love you, Sam Winchester.”

“I love you too, angel.”


	15. Fine

It was during the move that Sam finally panicked. Dean and Castiel were taking a break from heaving the sofa onto the truck, and passing a beer between them, when they heard a strange sound. 

Dean’s eyes flashed in a way Castiel had not seen before. “Sammy!” he called gruffly. 

Castiel listened for the response with a frown. 

“I'm fine.”

Dean looked at Castiel. “What has he eaten today?”

Blue eyes closed. 

Dean stood and leapt back into the house. “Sam?”

Castiel followed behind. “Dean, may I?” he said quietly as they reached a closed bedroom door.

The older brother took a breath. It was transparently difficult for Dean to step back, and Castiel appreciated the effort. “Yeah, okay. You're right.”

He smiled grimly and opened the door to step in, and closed it softly behind him. “Sam?”

The man was sitting on the bed, with one hand over his mouth. He seemed sick. 

Castiel touched his arm. “Sam, I'm here. I know this is hard. We knew it would be hard. But it's what you want, right? This is your decision.”

This was his decision. 

Castiel had learned that those words were powerful to Sam. The man needed to know that he had some control. His obsessive compulsive behavior and issues with food and balance all stemmed from feeling out of control. “Dean isn't being taken. He's walking into another life stage. Right? And you, you're not being left alone. You're deciding to be more independent. Right?”

Sam nodded slowly. “I'm fine. I'm really fine.”

Dean had taken Castiel out for drinks weeks ago. They had spent a nice evening laughing and getting to know one another better. Then Dean had turned to him seriously. “Sam.”

Castiel had smiled. Here it was. “Yes. Sam.”

“He's a special kind of mess. You know that.”

He had laughed. “That's quite a big brother way of saying it.”

Dean shrugged. “It's accurate. He's a good man. I couldn't be prouder of the kid. But some days…”

“Some days he's more human than others,” Castiel offered. 

It was Dean’s turn to laugh now. “And that's accurate too. You're right. Some days he's mortal again. And he will tell you he's fine.”

Castiel recognized this as a passing of the torch, and that it was hard for Dean, and he quieted with a smile. 

The man took a deep breath. “He's always fine, until suddenly he's not, and when he's definitely not, that's when he’ll say it.” 

Somehow, Castiel understood that perfectly. 

“Cas, I like you. You're a good guy. I liked you before I met you because I get a kick out of that stupid look on my brother's face when he's thinking about you. And you ain't a quitter. I like that especially.”

His eyes narrowed as his head tipped to the side. “What do you mean?”

Dean took a breath, then took another drink from his bottle. “You ain't the first man to say you'll be there for him.”

“Oh.” Castiel looked down at the table uncomfortably. He liked to pretend he was Sam’s first everything, just so he didn't have to worry about what previous experience he wasn't living up to. 

“There was one guy, way back, who meant the world to my brother. Sam hung on every word he said. I mean, they fought like nothing I ever saw, but Sam worshipped that man. And if there's anybody who should have seen what Sam was doing to himself, it should've been him.”

Castiel frowned. 

“Instead, he encouraged it. He would say, Sam, what you're eating there, how's that going to help your training? How can you cut your times if you're not the first one in the pool and the last one to leave each day? And my personal favorite? If something don't hurt, you ain't trying hard enough.”

“That's the last thing he needs to hear!” he blurted out. 

“Yeah. Well, it was all the same crap Sam was already telling himself, but hearing it from this guy just made it all so much worse. Like because this guy said it, it must be true. Must be right. He took it as this guy encouraging him, helping him reach his goals, tough love kind of thing.”

“He doesn't need that sort of encouragement,” Castiel snarled. He gripped his beer bottle and wished it would break. Just the thought that some man had told Sam that if something didn't hurt, he wasn't trying hard enough…

“Exactly. That's why, after Sam’s heart attack, I told the guy to get lost and never contact Sam again.”

“What did he say?”

“Said he was the only one who cared about Sam, that he was the only one trying to help him reach the level of competition he wanted to be at. He said he had Sam tell him the nutritional content of everything he ate, and the breakdown of every workout, because he loved him.”

Castiel took a breath. “Maybe he thought so, but that isn't love. That's control. That's obsession. Sounds like this guy had his own issues.”

Dean snorted at that. “Yeah. Maybe he did. But I didn't care. I just wanted his poison out of my brother's system. I told him if he contacted Sam again, I'd kill him. Even talked to the sheriff about a restraining order, but it was never necessary. Guy never looked back.”

“And what did Sam say?” he murmured. 

“Oh, he was pissed,” Dean confirmed with a humorless laugh. “But he wasn't in much of a position to argue. He had just given himself a heart attack at age twenty, because he refused to believe he was human and had to consume calories and sleep and do other human things. So he didn't have much he could say when I kicked Dad out of our lives.”

Castiel started to nod, then he realized what Dean had just said. He went over the entire story again in his head. His lips parted, and he stared at Dean, who was busy looking at his bottle. 

The man cleared his throat, obviously battling emotion. “Most of what he said was he was fine.”

“Dean,” he said in his gravel voice, “I'm so sorry. How awful. For both of you.”

“Yeah, well, the point is, Sam has a history of saying he's fine when he's drowning. I'm just saying, don't believe him.”

So while Sam sat on his bed claiming to be fine, Castiel simply smiled and took hold of his hands. “Sam, you're not fine, and that's okay. But you will be. I promise. I'm not quitting, and neither are you.”

Sam squeezed his hand a little. “I know. Thank you.”


	16. Sam's Family

Dean wasn't gone. Not really. Dean would never be gone. He was just a few hours away. He would call almost every day, just as he always did while on the road. Sam was too old to need him to hold his hand. On his way out, the older man had wrapped his arms around him, and held him tight. 

“You need me, you put up the Bat-signal, and I'll be here. And lean on that guy. He can handle it.”

Sam had smiled. “He can. I'm glad you like him, man.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Don't go that far. He's still screwing my baby brother.”

He shoved his shoulder. “Your brother isn't a baby anymore.”

“I used to carry you around on my shoulders, and now you're bigger than me, man. Don't talk to me about growing up. I watched it happen. Wasn't pretty.”

“Shut up,” he laughed. 

Dean was watching him with quiet pride. “We've come a long way, haven't we, Sammy?”

It had been years since he had bothered to correct the name. He would always be Sammy to Dean. In some ways, it was comforting to know some things between them wouldn't change. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I think so too.”

He nodded. “For the first time in my life, I own a home. I've owned dozens of houses, but this is the first home. I couldn't have gotten here without you. You know that, right? That you helped me as much as I ever helped you?”

Sam’s throat was too tight. He shrugged. “I hope so. I really hope so.”

“Remember months ago? Around the time you met Cas, I think. I told you that listening to you coach your clients over the phone helped me decide what I needed in my own life? I mean that, man. I never paid you, but you were my coach too. You don't know how many times I've heard your voice in my head when I needed some direction. It's become a reflex now, hearing Sammy say, ‘Is this what you want? Is this getting you closer to what you want for yourself? Step back and give it an aerial view.’ And all those other stupid things you say.”

His heart was filling with warmth. “And it's helped you some?”

Dean shoved his hands in his pockets. “Every day, every decision I make comes with Sammy’s voice saying, why am I doing this? And it keeps me on track.”

“Why are you doing this, Dean?” he asked softly. 

His brother heaved a satisfied sigh. “Because it's what I deserve. It's the home and life I really want. I got a beautiful woman I can visit and call now and then. I got fish that need catching. I got money in the bank. I got a partner I trust, a car I love, and a new brother-in-law watching over the most important person in my life. And I got a dog that don't mind how grouchy I get because he's grouchy too. I worked hard for it. I'll keep working hard for it. But my baby brother, the coach, says I deserve to enjoy what I've worked hard for, and I'm going to go make my own home.”

“I'm so glad, man. You've helped a lot of people along the way, me most of all. This is just the next step. It's not the beginning. It's not the end. Keep grinding.”

Dean gave him a crooked grin, and sighed happily. “All right, Coach. Take care of that guy. He loves you.”

“Crazy, right?”

“Smart,” Dean corrected. Then he smacked his brother on the arm and headed for the Impala. They had driven the truck to the cabin the day before, and now Dean was taking the last of his things, the most important mementos, in his car. 

Sam felt a twinge of fear as the engine roared, but just at the right moment, a warm hand rested at the small of his back. He smiled and turned to Castiel. “He's good,” he murmured. “I didn't realize it, but I think part of what bothered me so much about him leaving was worry about him. He's never really been on his own either. You must think it's ridiculous that two grown men, both financially comfortable, both physically healthy, are still so codependent. But he's my best friend. And I'm his. I don't know how you live so far from your brother. I can't imagine it.”

Castiel was nodding. “James needed space if he was going to grow. He's asked me a hundred times to move closer, to follow him out east. But he needs to be the head of his family. If I'm too near, he defers to me without even meaning to. It's a pattern we fell into as kids, that we still fall into every time we're together. He's too comfortable letting me take charge, and I don't want there to be a hierarchy between us. Being separated has helped with that. And now I can lean on him too. I couldn't do that if we were too near. It just isn't how our dynamic developed.”

Sam turned to stare at the road that had taken his brother. “When I went away to school, Dean and I barely talked. My dad called for his report on my training if I didn't email him daily. But nothing from Dean. And I didn't contact him any more than he did me. I think he was giving me my space, but it was lonely without him. I guess I've always been afraid that if he left he wouldn't be part of my life anymore, like back then. But things are different now. We talk every day. And even when we don't, we know each other so well that we don't need to. He's good,” Sam said again. “I'm good. I don't think that's ever happened before,” he laughed. 

His lover was smiling at him, and it just made his cheeks cry out to be kissed, so he indulged them. Castiel laughed and pushed him away. “Always with my fat cheeks, Sam!” he scolded in exasperation. But his blue eyes were shining with devotion. 

Sam held him still as he tried to squirm away, and obstinately kissed the man’s cheeks. “Hey! These are my favorite things on the planet! Don't you say anything but complimentary things about them-And hold still! I've earned the right to kiss them!”

Their wrestling match continued into the house, and up the stairs. Castiel was breathless and pink by the time he had managed to toss Sam onto the bed. 

Sam was laughing happily. “God, I love you, Castiel.”

There was still a tiny spark of disbelief in his lover's eyes whenever he said it, but Sam was working on that. He wasn't one to shy away from a challenge. 

“Your cheeks might get the most attention,” he admitted, “but I love all the other parts too. Like the ones that can throw me down. It's pretty hot. Beyond my big brother, I don't think there's ever been a guy that could overpower me.”

Castiel smirked down at him while he pulled off his shirt. “That's what you get for all those strength sessions you put me through.”

“Totally worth it. I'm enjoying the rewards of your hard work.”

His smile softened, and he lay down beside Sam comfortably. “Then remind me to throw you down a little later tonight.”

Sam kissed the top of his head and pulled him close. “My pleasure,” he assured him. Then he let his hands drift down Castiel's powerful chest, to feel the bit of perpetual pudge that remained around his middle. He ran his fingertips along the silky stretch marks with reverence. “Cas? Promise me we'll always be one another's coaches.”

“It was in our vows, my love.”

He nodded. “We fit together perfectly.”

His reward was a content sigh, and Castiel curling into him even tighter. Sam was in no hurry to move, not when they were both right where they belonged.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Please comment!
> 
> ~Posing


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